


What the Righteous Man Wanted

by rea_of_sunshine



Series: Cas, the Righteous Man [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Anna Ships It, Best Friends, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Gabriel, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Bottoming from the Top, Castiel Being an Idiot, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean, Castiel is GSA President, Castiel is Not a Morning Person, Castiel's Terrible Family, Closeted Castiel, Closeted Dean, Dean Being an Idiot, Dean Has Feelings For Castiel, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dirty Talk, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, First Time Bottoming, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Jealous Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore Lives, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lisa Being an Asshole, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Morning Sex, Nerd Sam, Oblivious Castiel, Oblivious Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Public Sex, Religious Castiel, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual orientation change effort, Slow Burn, Supportive Sam, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Twink Castiel, castiel's mom is an asshole, dean loves theater, homosexual cas, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4201320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rea_of_sunshine/pseuds/rea_of_sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>     “Cas, it’s not going to break.” Dean, just to prove it, stomps once, twice, three times against the ice. He even slams both feet down against it just for good measure, laughing when his foot slips and he crashes to the ice.  </p><p>     “Dean!” Cas yelps, tears welling in his eyes and hands reaching for Dean. </p><p>     “Cas, I’m fine,” Dean assures, moving to stand, eyes locked on Cas. </p><p>     Then the ice breaks, and Dean falls through. The last thing he sees is Cas’ horrified face, helpless to stop him from falling before the cold hits him, stabbing the air from his lungs with fingers like knives and stealing every thought in his brain. He was pulled from the water that day, but later, he would remember the exhilaration of the ride and the joy of the laughter and the fear of the fall and the cold of the water, and he would think that that’s what loving Cas has always felt like. A constant back and forth of laughter and cold, of warmth and sickness, of love and hate. Loving Cas has never been easy, but falling for him has always been the easiest thing in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>      Be warned of John's continued and excessive homophobia throughout the chapter, work, and series. He's a dick. Sorry. 
> 
>      Also, in the beginning, I envisioned little Dean as little Jensen instead of Ridge Canipe as the show portrayed him in 1.18 and 3.08, so if any of you are wondering where the heck I'm getting a cute little blonde with a bowl-cut, that would be where.

### Prologue

     “Dean, are you sure this is a good idea?” Dean Winchester throws his head back and laughs. 

     “Come on, Cas. Live a little,” Dean says, leaning forward to clap his best friend on the shoulder. The smaller boy huffs, his breath leaving steam clouds with every exhale. Dean tightens his scarf, straightens his toboggan, and pulls Cas down into the snow. 

     “Dean, it’s very cold. If the ice breaks, we could freeze,” Cas says, blowing snowflakes away from him as he settles onto the sled behind Dean.

     “The ice won’t break. Me and Sammy have done this a million times!” Dean wraps his hands around the ropes and jerks forward, letting out an excited shriek as they begin to slide. Cas’ face buries in Dean’s layers of clothes, his arms wrapped around Dean’s middle. Dean just laughs, eyes glued open against the cold and joy as they slide on and on, down each hill they go over until they ease to a halt over the frozen pond. Dean rolls off the sled laughing, but Cas stays frozen, even as Dean falls away. “See, Cas!” Dean hoops, jumping to his feet and slipping back across the ice to his best friend. “Wasn’t that so much fun?” Cas pries his eyes open and stares at his best friend in horror. 

     “That was terrifying,” Cas mutters, tears springing to his eyes. “Dean, please get me off the ice. What if it breaks?”

     “Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asks, stepping forward and straightening Cas’ toboggan, brushing the snowy hair away to see Cas’ eyes. 

     “Please, Dean. It’s going to break.” Dean can hear the terror rising in Cas’ voice. 

     “Cas, it’s not going to break.” Dean, just to prove it, stomps once, twice, three times against the ice. He even slams both feet down against it just for good measure, laughing when his foot slips and he crashes to the ice. 

     “Dean!” Cas yelps, tears welling in his eyes and hands reaching for Dean. 

     “Cas, I’m fine,” Dean assures, moving to stand, eyes locked on Cas. 

     Then the ice breaks, and Dean falls through. The last thing he sees is Cas’ horrified face, helpless to stop him from falling before the cold hits him, stabbing the air from his lungs with fingers like knives and stealing every thought in his brain. He was pulled from the water that day, but later, he would remember the exhilaration of the ride and the joy of the laughter and the fear of the fall and the cold of the water and he would think that that’s what loving Cas has always felt like. A constant back and forth of laughter and cold, of warmth and sickness, of love and hate. Loving Cas has never been easy, but falling for him has always been the easiest thing in the world.

     

### Chapter 1

     “Okay, Dean, can you tell me your address?” Mary’s voice is soft, her smile, loving, her posture, open. Dean sits perched on her hip, his chubby five-year-old fingers running absently through his mother’s hair. Mary thinks it’s a nervous habit, a comfort during stressful times. 

     “One, two, two, six,” Dean starts, nodding his head with every number he pops out. He’s proud of knowing his address. He doesn’t think many other five year olds know their address. “Double Springs…” Dean falters. He knows there are streets. He knows there are roads. He just doesn’t know what his is. “Double Springs Street,” he decides finally, and his mother smiles. 

     “Close,” she says, and kisses his nose. “Double Springs Road.” He groans and lays his head on his mother’s shoulder. She smiles and opens the door, the smell of glue and Play-Doh hitting them both instantly.

     “Mommy,” he asks, tugging gently at her hair. “What if none of the other kids like me?” His voice is small, his green eyes, wide. Mary smiles softly. 

     “They’re going to love you,” she tells him before kneeling down before him. “Now listen. I know you’re scared about your first day of school, but you’re already _so_ smart. You’ll fit right in.” 

     “I wish Sammy could come to school with me,” Dean tells her softly, watching her blonde hair fall through his fingers. He shifts slightly, his backpack a weight between his small shoulders that he’s not yet use to. Mary squats down and gently pulls him off her, brushing over his cheekbones with her thumbs. 

     “How about this? After school today, we’ll go to get ice cream.” 

     “Sammy too?” Dean asks excitedly, eyes wide in his request. 

     “Sammy too,” Mary laughs, brushing her hands over his face again. Dean smiles and nods vigorously. “Good. Now go make some friends. I love you.” Though she smiles as he runs off, she spends the day worrying, but he does not. He colors, and he giggles. He naps, and he plays. He does not, in any way, act like he is different from the rest of them, because he isn’t. He’s just Dean Winchester, freckle-faced, green-eyed, happy-hearted Dean Winchester, and when he goes home that day, his mother scribbles her husband a quick note of their whereabouts and loads her children into the car for ice cream. 

     Baby Sammy makes a mess. Big boy Dean makes a mess. Mary laughs at their sticky hands and their sugary kisses and takes them home to warm baths and clean beds. The second day of school begins much as the first. The mid-August air kisses Dean’s sleepy cheeks and his half-closed eyes. Mary carries him through the door again and drops him at his seat with a soft kiss to his forehead. 

     “I love you, mommy,” he says softly, and she tells him she loves him back before standing and leaving. The beginning of the school year passes in a blur for Dean. He learns his alphabet, all the way up to his P’s with example words and silly songs for everyone. “A says ah or aye or ahh. Apple or alien, alligator too,” follows his every step. He learns his colors. “My eyes are green,” he tells baby Sam one night. “Your socks are blue. Mom’s hair is yellow.” He learns his numbers. “Onetwothreefourfivesixseven—mom look how fast I can count!—eightnineteneleven,” becomes his favorite game. He is happy. He is normal, and as Mary puts him to sleep one night early November, no one has any idea that when he wakes, he will no longer be the normal and happy child he once was. 

     The fire burns the house to the ground. It leaves nothing but char and ash and the tiny lockbox that has the boys’ birth certificates in it. It doesn’t even leave a body for the widowed father and his two boys to bury. It takes everything from them, including their mother, and from that point on, Dean doesn’t see a point in learning his letters or his colors or his numbers. 

     John moves them to a new house a few towns over, one with a big yard and lots to do to keep their minds off all they’ve lost. John asks a lot of Dean. He asks him to go to school during the day, to help out with Sammy at night, to stay strong without his mother all on his own, but Dean Winchester is not in the habit of disappointing his father. The first day at his new school is the hardest for him. Of all things, they are learning their addresses. Every child spits out a string of numbers and a street name, but when it’s Dean’s turn, his tiny voice shakes out 1226 Double Springs Road, and the teacher frowns. 

     “No, Dean,” the teacher says, surely a nice lady but unaware of the crisis this child has been through. “Your address is 403 Sceadan Street,” she corrects gently, and the entire class of grubby kindergarteners laughs at Dean. He flushes and ducks his head. When recess comes, he hides behind a big tree so no one will see him cry. 

     “Why are you crying?” someone asks, a soft voice that stands over Dean. Dean pushes his face further into his arms. “Come on. Why are you crying?” the kid asks again, and Dean finally pulls his face out of his elbow. The boy before him has a big tuft of light brown hair attached to his skull and big blue eyes. 

     “My mom died,” Dean says, and the kid before him blinks and sits. 

     “My mom says I don’t have a dad,” the kid says and begins pulling grass up by its roots. 

     “Of course you have a dad. Everyone has a dad.” The kid blinks again, slowly taking in what Dean says. 

     “You don’t have a mom,” the kid says after a moment with a shrug. “It’s the same thing,” and Dean wipes his nose, leaving a trail of snot along his sleeve. 

     “I have a mom. She’s just gone…” Dean says after a moment and rubs at his nose again. The kid before him says nothing for a long while.

     “You’re the kid that lives at 403 Sceadan Street, right?” he asks finally, and Dean shrugs. 

     “I guess. We just moved in.”

     “I live at 406 Sceadan. That means you live right down the road from me.” The kid blinks at Dean again. “My name is Castiel Milton,” the kid says and pushes a hand with dirty nails out for Dean to take."You can call me Cas." 

     “I’m Dean,” he says and takes Castiel’s hand into his. They don’t really know what they are doing. They are merely playing at things they’ve seen grown-ups do, so when their almost-shake ends, they sit under that tree hand in hand until the teacher calls for the end of recess. They walk to the classroom hand in hand, and when the day is over, they walk home hand in hand. John sits on the porch, sprawled about with a beer bottle in one hand. 

     “Dean Winchester,” he slurs, and Dean’s spine goes rigid. His dad can be very scary without his mom to calm him down. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

     “Nothing, Dad,” Dean says, eyes dropping to his shoes. 

     “You’re holding hands with that boy,” he slurs, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes at his son. 

     “This is Castiel. He’s my new friend,” Dean says, looking over at the blue-eyed boy. He doesn’t look scared, so Dean decides that he won’t be scared either. He looks back to his father, his chin held up. The two stare at one another for a long moment, John’s lips twitching and Dean’s hands trembling. Not being afraid is a lot harder than Dean thought. Cas squeezes his fingers gently, but suddenly, John lunges forward and grips Dean’s arm, jerking him away from Castiel. Dean’s eyes widen in terror as John reels him close and shakes him by the top of his arms. He smells like alcohol. 

     “You don’t hold hands with boys,” he says, shaking Dean with every word. “That’s fucking queer, and Winchesters don’t tolerate queer.” Dean nods his head furiously. “You queer boy?” Dean shakes his head even more furiously. John lets him go all at once. “Good,” he spits and steps away, scooping his beer up and taking a swig, his glassed-over eyes still narrowed on Dean. “Get inside.” Dean doesn’t look back at Cas as he runs inside. Instead, he runs past the living room and down the hall, straight into Sammy’s room. He’s laying on his back screaming, no telling how long he’s been lying there screaming. Dean swallows down his tears to scoop his baby brother up, rocking him as he gently as his trembling hands will allow. 

     “What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean asks, as though the six month old will answer him. He doesn’t need to answer for Dean to know. When Dean shifts his hands, one landing on Sam’s bottom, it comes back immediately soaked. Dean looks around. He’s five. He doesn’t know how to change a diaper, but he doesn’t want to bother his dad. His arms still hurt where John grabbed him, so he learns. He changes Sam’s diaper, but that only slows the crying. If John comes in and hears Sam crying, he’ll probably get mad, maybe at Dean, maybe at Sam, and Dean doesn’t know what to do. He panics. 

     “Hey Jude,” he sings, swinging Sam slowly. “Don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.” Sam’s teary eyes widen, his small brows pulling together as he forgets to cry and listens to Dean. “Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.” Dean sings the song softly, and when he finishes and Sam resumes crying, he sings it again. He doesn’t really mind. Eventually, Sam falls asleep, and Dean puts him back in his crib before going back to his own room and crawling between the sheets, tears in his eyes. 

     “I miss you, mommy,” he whispers. “I miss you a whole lot, but I’ll take good care of Sammy. Don’t worry,” and he falls asleep. He sleeps fitfully for a few hours before he is awoken by a quick succession of knocks. He sits up suddenly. “Whoever’s there, my dad was a marine and, and he’ll beat you up!” 

     “Psst,” a voice says, sending Dean jumping from his bed and running to the light switch. As soon as he flicks it on, he looks around his room, checking under the bed and in the closet and finding no one. “Dean,” the voice calls, the tapping resuming once more, this time behind Dean. He turns quickly, only to see a pale face hanging in the window. He lets out a small shriek. 

     “Damn it, Dean,” his father growls from down the hall. “I’m trying to sleep here!” Dean snaps his head towards his door, then looks back to his window. He takes a step closer, and this time, he makes out a pair of very bright eyes and light brown hair. 

     “Cas,” he asks, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes. 

     “Yes, please let me in. My arms are getting tired.” Dean scrambles onto the foot of his bed, and opens his window, even going so far as to help pull Cas in to save him from hanging there much longer. His window isn’t too high, but he knows from experience that crawling through it can be hard, especially for someone little like Cas. 

     “What are you doing?” Dean asks when Cas gets situated on his bed. Dean sees that he is wearing bee pajamas. 

     “Did you mean what you said? About us being friends?” Cas asks, fiddling with his fingers in his lap before snapping his eyes up to Dean, his head cocked to the side slightly. 

     “Um, yes?” Cas takes a long time to respond.

     “I’ve never had a friend before,” he says finally, but it doesn’t sound like it saddens him. It just sounds like facts falling from the small child’s lips. Dean frowns. He had lots of friends at his old school. Ash and Chuck and Victor, and he was even friends with that girl named Donna. Now though, now he only has Cas. 

     “You’ll like it,” Dean says softly. “Friends hang out together and have sleepovers and movie marathons and tell each other secrets that no one else can know.” Cas’ mouth twitches with what Dean thinks is a smile. 

     “It sounds nice,” Cas murmurs, fiddling with his fingers again. “Can we have a sleepover tonight?” he asks, blue eyes wide and hopeful. 

     “Dad would be mad if I had a sleepover without asking,” Dean says softly, sitting on the bed next to Cas. 

     “I don’t think I like your dad very much,” Cas says, and had Dean not been so shocked, he’d have been mad. “He looked like he was hurting you.” 

     “He wasn’t,” Dean mutters, even though he had. He doesn’t want Cas to get his dad in trouble. 

     “Okay,” Cas says simply, and they leave it at that. “I should probably go home,” Cas says finally and stands. “See you tomorrow.” 

     The next morning, Dean is awoken by the screaming of his alarm clock. He peeks open his eyes and watches the blinking of the clock before pushing the button to shut it off. Dean finds his dad in the kitchen, sitting at the table with Sam in a high chair. 

     “Hey, Dean,” John says when he spots him, a big smile covering his face. Dean offers a small one in return. “Sit down, son. I want to talk to you.” So Dean sits because John gave him an order, and that’s just what happens when John gives an order. It is obeyed. “I’m sorry I was so tough on you yesterday.”

     “It’s okay,” Dean replies, because he somehow knows that if John saw the bruises on his arms, he’d be even more mad. 

     “No, it’s not. I love you, son, and I want you to grow up well, not as some faggot.”

     “Okay, Dad,” Dean says, his eyes on his hands. 

     “Chin up. The bus is going to be here soon.” 

     “I think I’ll walk today,” he murmurs and turns away from his father. He steps towards Sam instead, as he always has. Sam grins when he looks at Dean, coos when Dean leans over to kiss his forehead, and whines when Dean starts to step away. “Don’t worry, Sammy,” Dean says, stepping closer and taking his baby brother’s hand in his. “I’ll be back, soon. I promise.” Sam smiles again at the sound of Dean’s voice, and this time when he tries to walk away, there’s no crying. 

     The second day of school for Dean is not nearly as bad as the first. Today, he has Cas. They giggle, as kids are supposed to do. They play, as kids are supposed to do. Dean likes that Cas makes him feel like it isn’t his responsibility to worry. They walk home together again that day, racing down the streets or stopping to poke bugs.

     “See that window over there?” Cas asks, hanging upside down from the tree in his front yard, an arm stretched out as he points. Dean sits in the grass at the trunk, staring up at Cas. “That’s my room. I have an aquarium. Would you like to see?”

     “Actually, I need to check on my brother,” Dean says and stands, brushing the dirt off his pants and turning for his house. “I’ll see you later, Cas,” he says and walks away, leaving Cas hanging in the tree, his arms dangling below him. When Dean makes it to his house, he finds Sam scooting around on the floor, babbling the whole time. “Look at you go, Sammy!” he laughs, sitting beside his brother and watching him scoot around. 

     “Dean,” John calls, so he stands and makes his way to his father. John hardly sees Dean when he looks at him. “Make your brother a bottle, would you?” John asks, so of course Dean goes to do so, pulling a chair to the cabinet because he’s not tall enough to reach it on his own. John sits slouched at the table, rubbing his eyes. Dean doesn’t mind making bottles for Sammy. It makes him feel important, like Sam needs him. 

     This time though, as he grasps the edge of the bottle, the chair slips out from under him, sending him and the entire shelf that the bottle was on shattering towards the ground. Dean is too shocked to cry, doubly so when he feels John jerk him away before he hits the ground. 

     “You stupid boy!” he shouts, holding Dean up by his wrist, the rest of his body hanging limp like some rag doll, too frozen to stand. “Damned kid,” he spits, throwing Dean to the side, away from the glass. “You ruin everything you touch!” Now, Dean begins to cry, but they are silent tears, tears so his dad doesn’t hear. 

     “I’m sorry,” he sniffs. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Please don’t be mad. I can clean it up,” Dean says after a moment, his tiny voice shaking. He wipes at his eyes.

     “Just go watch Sam,” John spits, leaning down to sift through the broken glass and plastic bottles. Dean goes to watch Sam, hating every tear that falls down his face. That night, as he lays in bed, he thinks about what his dad said. _Do I really ruin everything?_ He asks himself, staring at the moonlight falling through the window. _Maybe it’s my fault Dad is so angry all the time. Maybe it’s my fault Mommy died,_ he muses, and the very idea hurts him. The tears once again begin to stream down his face, falling onto his pillow and wetting his cheeks. _I_ was _holding hands with Cas._ Dean crawls from under the covers and stands on the foot of his bed, craning his neck to see out of the window. He wants to know if Cas is still awake. He wants to know if Cas can make this better like he made school better. Dean pulls on his shoes and climbs out of the window before running across the yard, across the street to Cas’ window. 

     “Cas,” he says quietly, knocking on the window, tears still spilling down his face. Cas’ window isn’t as high as Dean’s, so he just stands on his tip-toes to see inside instead of hanging by his forearms as Cas had. He knocks louder, tears falling faster because he doesn’t want to be alone. He wants to be with his friend, with the friend who makes him laugh instead of the father who makes him cry. “Please, Cas,” he whimpers, putting his head down on the cool brick of Cas’ windowsill. He doesn’t want to leave, but he’s getting cold because he left without at jacket and a storm is rolling in. He knows he’ll get sick if he stays outside any longer, so, with tears still in his eyes, he turns away. 

     “Dean,” he hears a voice ask, and he whips around to find Cas’ sleepy face leaning out of his now opened window. His hair is stuck to his head on one side, in a state of chaos on the other. Dean laughs a shaky laugh. “What are you doing here? Are you crying?”

     “Can we have that sleep over now?” Dean asks, stepping back to Cas’ window and peering up at him. Cas stares at Dean for a moment before moving aside, making room for him to crawl through and offering a hand when he gets stuck in the middle. As soon as he is inside, Dean immediately drops that hand, his cheeks heating and his father’s words echoing in his mind. _You don’t hold hands with boys. That’s fucking queer, and Winchesters don’t tolerate queer._

     “Dean,” Cas asks, cocking his head at Dean, his eyebrows knit together. Dean looks at Cas, begging him silently not to ask, begging him silently to just let the tears on his face be ignored. The rest of Cas’ words die in his throat. Dean smiles a bit and looks around. Dean’s room is decorated with cool stuff. He’s got comic books and action figures and toy trucks and a rocket ship bedspread that his dad’s best friend Bobby gave him, but Cas’ room is pretty cool too, Dean guesses. He’s got a bumble bee bedspread to match his bumble bee pajamas and a tank full of colorful fish. 

     “Cool,” he croons, stepping closer and leaning to see them all. The tank has at least a dozen fish in it, all of varying colors and patterns. 

     “Thank you,” Cas says, sitting on his bed and kicking his feet. Dean turns around eventually. 

     “Did I wake you up?” Dean asks, walking over and sitting on the bed next to Cas.

     “Yes, but I don’t mind,” he says, shrugging and threading his fingers together. Dean wonders in passing if it’s okay for boys to hold hands with themselves. 

     “You can go back to sleep. I’ll sleep on the floor,” Dean offers, standing and bending to untie his shoes. “Do you have an extra pillow and a blanket?”

     “No,” Cas says, kicking his legs once more. “But there’s plenty of room on the bed.” Dean stops in the untying of his shoes and looks to Cas. Dean wonders if his dad would be mad if he shared a bed with Cas. He’s shared a bed with Sammy before. He thinks it’s the same thing. 

     “Okay,” Dean says, and finishes kicking off his shoes before crawling into the bed beside Cas. The two children lie there looking at one another for a long while before one or the other’s blinking grows slow and sleepy. 

     “Dean,” Dean hears, right as sleep threatens to overcome him. He opens his eyes to find Cas staring at him. “Why were you crying tonight?” he asks, his voice a whisper. Dean debates not telling him. He thinks that maybe he should lie, tell Cas that he fell and scraped his knee or something, but then he remembers explaining to Cas what friendship is. He remembers telling him that friendship is trusting one another with secrets. 

     “Are you my best friend, Cas?” Dean asks, his voice soft like Cas’. His hair is white in the moonlight. 

     “I think so,” Cas answers, uncertainly. His brows are knit together again, and if his head weren’t pressed into the pillow, Dean feels sure it would be cocked to the side.

     “I need you to be sure, ‘cause some things you can only tell your _best_ friend,” Dean says seriously. 

     “Then, yes. I’m your best friend,” Cas replies with nod, just as serious as Dean.

     “And you’ll be my best friend for forever?”

     “I’d like to be your best friend for forever,” Cas says, his eyebrows still knit together. Dean lets out a small laugh.

     “You’re a weird dude, Cas,” he says, closing his eyes again.

     “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your best friend,” Cas mutters, pulling Dean’s eyes open with the hurt tone in his voice. 

     “Sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean it. Best friends are also kind of mean to each other,” Dean explains with a shrug. 

     “I don’t understand.”

     “Neither do I,” Dean admits with a smile.

     “Why were you crying?” Cas asks again, this time scooting a bit closer, to the point that Dean nearly has to cross his eyes to see him straight. 

     “I broke a bunch of plates,” Dean murmurs, blinking slowly as to stave off the tears he can feel forming again. 

     “Did you get cut?”

     “No,” Dean answers softly, his voice barely there at all. 

     “Then what was the matter?” 

     “My dad said I ruin everything I touch,” he says after a long moment, and no sooner than the words have slipped past his lips, he is crying, big, heavy, hot tears that fall down his face and land on Cas’ bumble bee sheets. 

     “Why would he say that?” Cas asks, watching in horror as Dean cries in his bed. 

     “Because it’s true! I killed my mommy,” he wails, and Cas’ heart wrenches in his chest. He scoots a bit closer to Dean and wraps a skinny arm around Dean’s heaving back, pulling the taller boy close to his chest and letting him cry. Cas doesn’t think Dean killed his mommy. He doesn’t think Dean could hurt anyone on purpose. Even so, he holds his new best friend tight to his chest until his sobs become snores and the moonlight becomes sunlight. They are awoken by a squealing child and thundering footsteps. Dean is jolted awake thinking it’s Sam, thinking it’s his father. Cas is jolted awake because Dean shoots ramrod straight in his bed. He watches with sleepy confusion as Dean takes in his surroundings in a quick succession, his mouth set into a deep frown. When his eyes land on Cas, his face relaxes a bit, realization smoothing his mouth into a more neutral state. 

     “You better stop running, Anna,” a male voice says playfully, followed by the squealing child again. 

     “Those are my siblings,” Cas says, watching as Dean reaches up and covers a yawn before trying to straighten his blonde hair down into its usual bowl shape. Cas rolls out of bed and stretches. Dean follows shortly after, walking with him into the hall and poking his head out to see the running children. “Anna is three, and Gabriel is fourteen.” 

     “My little brother isn’t even one yet,” Dean says with a fond smile. The small child lets out another squeal of delight as her older brother scoops her into his arms and blows raspberries against her stomach. 

     “You didn’t tell me you had company, Castiel,” a woman says, and Dean turns to see a tall lady with reddish brown hair and a tight smile.

     “Sorry, mom,” Castiel says, dropping his eyes. 

     “What’s your name?” his mother asks, leaning down and getting to eye level with Dean. 

     “Dean Winchester,” Dean says, staring up at the fierce woman before him. He feels like an ant under a magnifying glass. Her eyes narrow at the name. 

     “Winchester,” she mimics softly, but Dean can only nod. After another moment of staring at him, she straightens and puts on a fake smile. “Well, Dean Winchester, I have a very important question for you.” Dean swallows nervously, looking up to her with wide eyes. “Do you like pancakes?” 

     Dean sits at Castiel’s kitchen table and eats pancakes doused in syrup from a plate shaped like a frog. He hasn’t been happier in weeks. Sitting at that table surrounded by sweets and Cas and Cas’ family, he doesn’t worry about Sam or about John. When he’s with Cas, he gets to be the kid he’s supposed to be.


	2. Chapter 2

     The years pass just like that. Dean splits his time between his house and Cas’, laughing and crying and telling everything to Cas, watching out for Sammy. Twelve years later finds them much in the same place. A few differences, of course. Dean’s hair is darker, leveling out at a light brown, sandy blonde if you squint. Cas’ hair is darkest, coming in at a shocking coal, chocolate brown in just the right light. Anna turned out hot, thin and curved and porcelain. Sam turned out tall, what he lacks in muscle made up for in his ever growing height. Cas turned out gay, trusting only Dean with the fact. Dean is in the drama club, but none of that matters. The only thing that matters is the silence falling around them.

      “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Dean says, his eyes shining in the darkness. The collective breaths from the audience are nothing but a whir from the other side of the curtain. His best friend grins. 

     “You were made for this,” Cas says, straightening the tie on Dean’s neck. 

     “I was made for greasy cheese burgers and short-skirted cheerleaders. A play about a gay prince, made for, I was not.” Dean worms away from the make-up brush Cas is trying to force on him. 

     “Okay, you’re playing an army lieutenant, not Yoda.”

     “Remind me never to befriend another president of the GSA,” Dean says with a roll of his eyes. He’s nervous. He’s never done a play where his love interest is another dude, but as a drama club senior veteran, Dean Winchester considers himself a professional. Professionals don’t let a little thing like sexuality get in the way of their characters. 

     “Please,” Cas snorts, pushing back the curtain a bit to see the crowd of students waiting for the play to begin. “I’m the only kid dumb enough to take on being the president of the GSA.” 

     “True.” They both stare out at the audience. A quiet hum runs through them, half of the students waiting to tear the play apart and the other to put it in the pile with the rest of the school’s greatest. 

     “You nervous?” Cas asks, still grazing his eyes over the crowd. 

     “No,” Dean lies smoothly. “Are you?” 

     “Well,” Cas starts, running a hand through his hair, leaving it in further disarray. “The play I spent the better half of my high school career writing and editing and making adequate is about to showcase. The audience is mostly straight, meaning they probably won’t feel it like they should.” Cas lets out a long breath. Dean can feel the tension radiating off him. “I’m not nervous at all.” Dean smiles at his best friend. 

     “Cas, you wrote an amazing play. I mean, you’re a helluva nerd for writing a play about Frederick William II.” Dean sways gently into Cas’ shoulder, teasing him softly. “But regardless of sexual orientation, people will _feel_ this play. It will destroy them.” Cas laughs. 

     “As a writer, that’s all I can ask for,” Cas replies with a grin. 

     “Good,” Dean says, even though he knows Cas is still nervous. “Because your best friend, i.e., me, has got this play in the palm of his hands.”

     “Thank God,” Cas says with a roll of his eyes and half a grin. 

     “Castiel, curtain in two,” says Balthazar, a snarky British exchange student with a headset much too small for his huge ego. 

     “Okay, thanks,” Cas says, and Balthazar disappears back into the folds of the curtains. Cas breathes in a deep breath before turning back to Dean. “Break a leg out there.”

     “Back at ya,” Dean says, and goes to take his place upstage. In the moments as he stands on his mark, his mind tumbles over his every line. When Cas first showed him the play, it was in its first stages and shined like nothing he’d ever read before. Granted, Dean only read SparkNotes of his assigned reading and maybe a Dr. Seuss or two, but still. He could tell that Cas had put everything into this play, so when he asked if Dean would play the lead’s love interest, Dean was shocked. He was flattered, and some part of him couldn’t help but think he could never do his best friend’s play justice. Still, he glides seamlessly through his lines, all the while thanking God that Cas wrote the tale of the eighteenth-century love story in modern English.

     The curtains part.

* * *

     “Okay, so not everyone got it and so maybe Kevin forgot a _few_ of his lines, but Cas, I thought it was great.” Dean carries his bag over his shoulder, his costume folded up neatly for tomorrow’s performance along with his gym clothes. Cas holds his head in his hands. 

     “It was a train wreck,” Cas says with a groan. “Garth was asleep when it came time for the important light work, Benny’s accent came out so hard people could hardly understand him, and you could completely tell the kiss, _the_ kiss, the single, solitary, most heart-wrenching kiss in the whole play was staged!” Cas sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

     “Cas…” Dean says slowly. “I don’t mean to fan the flames of your disaster, but…the whole play was staged.” Dean grins as the words reach Cas’ hunched form. He straightens a bit in the darkness.

     “Hilarious,” he says, not without humor, and Dean nods. 

     “I know.”

     “I just mean that Benny had his head angled completely wrong, and the audience could see that you weren't reallly kissing.” Cas sighs again. 

     “Cas, don’t beat yourself up about it. Tonight was practically a practice run anyways. It was just the student body. Tomorrow is the important one, right? That’s what you’ve been saying all along.”

     “Yes, but I still wanted tonight to be good.” 

     “It _was_ good, Cas,” Dean says, putting a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk. “You put your heart into this, and it shows.” Cas manages a small smile. “Now, I’m hungry, so what do you say we go to Ellen’s and grab a burger?” Dean grins at his best friend, and for the first time tonight, Cas really smiles at Dean. 

     “Okay,” Cas says, so they do. Dean takes Cas to get burgers, and for a while, they are together like they always have been. They laugh like they have since they were five, and Cas lets Dean help him forget the disaster that was his play. When they are full and satisfied, they walk home together in the dark and part ways at the end of their adjacent driveways. The next morning finds Cas tucked into his bed, his alarm clock screaming in time with his ringing phone. Cas groans and answers, wiping the night from his eyes. 

     “Hello,” he asks, his voice thick with sleep. 

     “Cas,” the voice on the other end says…well, chokes. “Cas, I’m sick as a dog, brotha’. There’s no,” the voice stops to cough, sending Cas shooting straight up in his bed. He pulls the phone back from his face praying to God that the caller ID doesn’t read Benny. “There’s no way I can make it tonight,” Benny says, because _of course_ the caller ID says Benny. 

     “Benny, you have to! Tonight is the important show! You can’t be sick!” Cas’ voice is frantic, but Benny can’t help but cough over him. 

     “I’m real sorry, Cas, but,” he pauses to cough, and Cas has to admit that he sounds like shit on toast. “There’s just no way.” 

     “Damn it!” Cas hisses, takes the phone away from his ear to breathe, and brings it back with a small piece of his control reclaimed. “Feel better,” he tells Benny, then hangs up. 

     That morning finds Dean sprawled on his stomach, Metallica playing softly in his ears to drown out Sam’s television constantly blaring in the next room. Sam can’t sleep without it, and Dean can’t sleep with it, so his headphones are a resentful compromise. He is so enveloped in Metallica and…well, sleep, that when Cas knocks on his window, he doesn’t stir in the slightest. Cas climbs through the screen they’d long since removed anyway. 

     “Dean,” he says, though he knows Dean cannot hear him. He huffs and jerks the cord from Dean’s iPod, to which Dean immediately pushes himself up on his elbows and looks around.

     “Sammy?” He asks blearily, automatically, still not having spotted Cas standing by his window. 

     “Dean, Benny is sick,” Cas says, distress tingeing into his voice. Dean sits up completely and pulls the headphones off his ears. 

     “What?” Dean asks, blinking stupidly at Cas. Cas tries to focus on Dean’s bed head instead of the disaster the play will be without its lead. 

     “Benny, he’s got the flu or something. I don’t know, but we don’t have a Frederick! Dean, this is going to be a disaster. What am I going to do?” Cas sits at the foot of Dean’s bed and runs a hand through his hair as he often does when he’s stressed.

     “Cas, calm down." Dean rubs a hand over his eyes. "You’re his understudy, right?” Dean asks, all traces of sleep gone from his voice, but he still has to squint up at him. Cas nods slowly.

     "Yes, but I never intended on playing him. I've been focused on directing, not acting."

     “So? You know the lines, and who could play Frederick William II better than the man who created this representation of him?” Dean smiles at Cas, and the sight of that smile alone is enough to send the rolling waves of Cas’ stomach into a perfect calm. That smile means everything will be alright, really and truly. 

     “You’re right. You’re right; it’ll be fine,” Cas says with a small shrug. 

     “It’ll be more than fine. It’ll be great!” Dean’s excitement bleeds into Cas, leaving them both grinning like idiots. They grin at each other for a long moment until Cas shakes himself a bit and looks away from Dean. 

     “I should go. I have to get Benny’s costume and tell everyone he won’t be there.” Cas ducks back out of Dean’s window without another word. 

     He stays gone for the rest of the morning, only resurfacing to have lunch with Dean and to insist that Dean fix his hair before coming to the school. Dean obliges simply to take some of the stress off Cas’ shoulders, and the next time the curtains part, Dean is ready for the glare of the lights. He is ready for the sudden silence of the crowd. He is ready for the immediate attention, and he works it. He knows Cas will be out shortly, so he performs. He squares his form into the soldier Cas wrote him to be, and delivers his lines. He loses himself in it; so much so that when the curtain closes for intermission at the end of act one, he is left upstage breathing heavily. 

     “Dean,” Cas says, laying a hand on his shoulder, shocking Dean back into reality. He is on his knees next to the gallows he helped Cas build. Fake chains are on his wrists, and Dean takes the moment to breathe. 

     “I’m good,” Dean says finally, and stands, shaking the chains away. Cas narrows his eyes at Dean, but nods. 

     “Take a break. The next couple of scenes are mostly mine.” Dean tries to smile. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him; all he can think about is how he’s never felt this with Benny. He’s never felt like the love and terror he was channeling into his character was real, but here he is, staring at Cas, thinking that he’s never seen the guy so free, thinking that he’s never seen the guy so beautiful, thinking he'd do anything to protect him. Cas steps away from Dean to help with the set change, but Dean finds himself rubbing his perfectly manicured hair into worried spikes. 

     Cas’ scenes go by without a hitch; Dean can feel the audience—now mostly adults—sitting on the edge of their seats, afraid their very breaths may shatter the frailty of their protagonist’s situation. Dean is amazed, as he often is by Cas. Dean watches his usually clumsy and shy best friend move with surprising grace and confidence on the stage. He is mesmerized, and when the time comes that he must get back on stage, he has to shake himself out of the trance Cas has put him in. 

     The set up for their scene— _the_ scene really—is simple. They are in a prison cell, trapped by the light that Garth is successfully shining on them. Dean is on his knees. He is bloodied. He is tired. Cas is shaken. He is worried, and when he sees Dean, all he can do is fall to his knees next to him. 

     “Don’t worry,” Cas is saying, and Dean has to stop and wonder what it is that he shouldn’t be worrying about. He feels sure that with Cas so close, nothing could be wrong. He shakes himself slightly. 

     “Frederick,” Dean says, his voice broken of its own accord. His hands are once again chained, but still, he reaches up and takes Cas’ face between his hands. Cas’ eyes widen a bit. 

     “Don’t worry; please, don’t worry. I’ll do something,” Cas says. They are both angled to the audience. “I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry.” 

     “It's alright,” Dean says in a soft and projected voice. “I got what I wished for. I got _you_ , if only for a moment.” Dean smiles a beaten and wary smile. His heart is pounding, every instinct telling him to kiss Cas. It's the script, and it's real, and Dean can’t move. 

     “Dean, kiss me,” Cas whispers finally, urgently, and for a split second, Dean forgets that he is onstage in front of hundreds of people, in front of his Uncle Bobby, in front of his baby brother. He hauls Cas to him and kisses him, opened mouthed and teeth clashing. Somewhere in his mind, Dean registers the many sudden intakes of breath, but all he can focus on is the small gasp he swallows from Cas. All he can focus on is how surprisingly soft Cas’ constantly chapped lips are. All he can focus on is the fact that he is here, kissing Cas, but then, all he can focus on, is the fact that Cas is pulling away. Cas’ wild eyes are meeting with his, and Cas is scrambling away. 

     “Wait,” Dean calls, because they have already messed the scene up. “Please, come back,” he calls again. He stands and tries to follow Cas, but his chains, though plastic, are tethered to the floor. They catch him, and all he is left to do is watch Cas run away. The lights dim around him, and the narrator’s voice comes out, rhythmically spilling some crap about why Frederick fled to cover Cas’ bailing. Dean isn’t listening. He is reliving kissing Cas, wondering at the fact that it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be doing. Dean is trying to catch his eye even though Cas is standing across the stage very pointedly looking anywhere but at Dean. 

     When the time comes, they finish their scenes in character but without the chemistry they previously had, and as soon as the curtains close for good, Cas bolts, leaving even before he gets to enjoy the standing ovation he receives. Dean follows shortly behind him, but after changing out of his costume and telling Sam to catch a ride with Bobby, Cas has a pretty lengthy head start. When Dean gets to their quiet little road, he heads straight for Cas’ house, knocking rapidly on the door and receiving no response for his troubles. 

     “Damn it,” he growls, leaving Cas’ doorstep behind in favor of where he feels sure Cas has gone. The path is beaten; it is old. It is sunny summers and two five year olds adventuring into the wilds. It is chilly mornings and two seven year olds swinging sticks to clear their way. It is cloudy autumns and two nine year olds hauling wood to build a tree house. It is rainy dusks and two eleven year olds running back to their houses for movie night. It is snowy afternoons and two thirteen year olds hiking back to their sanctuary. It is humid dawns and two fifteen year olds trying to find a quiet place to talk. Now, it is a starry night and one seventeen year old looking for his best friend. 

     “Cas,” he calls, stepping higher as the path meets the creek bed. The lights in their tree house are off, but Dean can see enough by the moon to know that Cas is sitting hunched on the porch watching the water carve its path through the sand and stone. Dean walks to the tree and begins to climb, not looking down until he is sitting safely next to Cas. “You okay?” he asks after a moment of silence. Cas nods, his knees curled against his chest and his chin on his arms. 

     “The thing about it is,” he starts when Dean's eyes on him become too much. “The kiss didn’t even happen.” Cas continues to stare out at the slow moving creek, but Dean is stunned. 

     “Um,” Dean starts, looking down to his hands, his face suddenly hot. “Yeah, it did, Cas. I know it was,” but Cas breaks him off. 

     “No, in real life, in Frederick William II’s life. There’s no proof, or even speculation, that the kiss happened. I wrote it in because I couldn’t understand how they could love each other so much and never have a physical guarantee.” Dean breathes deeply, but Cas lets out a dry laugh before Dean can respond. “I didn’t realize that emotional things don’t have to be physical. Maybe what I should have realized is that physical things aren’t always emotional.” Dean doesn’t know what to say; he finds himself following Cas’ eyes to the water, feeling like Cas is jabbing at him to see him squirm. It's working. 

     “Cas,” he starts finally, silently fumbling for a way to explain himself. “I didn’t mean to…you know..”

     “I know,” Cas says quietly, his eyes still refusing to meet Dean’s. “It was just the heat of the moment, right?” Cas finally turns to Dean, a small smile resting on his lips, but his eyes look tired, exhausted even. 

     “I guess,” Dean says, and some part of himself believes it. Some part of him believes that kissing Cas meant nothing, that he is still only interested in girls, that he has no feelings for Cas, and the part of him that _doesn’t_ believe that, that knows exactly what kissing Cas means, that knows he isn’t completely straight, that knows his feelings for Cas have never been completely platonic…well, Dean shoves that part deep, _deep_ down inside of himself and pretends it _doesn’t_ exist. “At least it looked real,” Dean says with a half-hearted smile, bringing an honest one to Cas’ lips. 

     “True,” he offers with a smile, letting his legs hang down over the side. They sit in silence for while, listening to the quiet of their little world and pretending like nothing has changed between them. “But, you know,” Cas says finally, clasping his hands between his knees. “I did enjoy kissing you…physically of course, not in a way that would ruin our friendship, not emotionally.” Cas’ words tumble out of him, seemingly landing with splashes into the stream running beneath their feet. Dean’s face heats back up. 

     “Yeah, Cas, I enjoyed kissing you, too,” Dean says, looking down to his hands, praying that the moon isn’t giving enough light so that the blush on his cheeks is exposed enough for Cas to see and to judge and to mock. 

     “Well,” Cas says, his hands ringing nervously against his trousers. He is still wearing his costume, Dean notices idly. “Maybe we could keep…enjoying kissing each other?” His voice turns the suggestion up like a question, but Dean’s eyes were already headed towards him. Dean’s hands begin to sweat on his jeans. 

     “You don’t think that would make things weird?” Dean asks, for the first time in a while catching Cas’ eye. 

     “No,” Cas says after a long moment of consideration. “I mean, you’re already the person I’m closest to. You were the first friend I ever made. You were the one who taught me to ride a bike. You were the first person I came out to. I don’t really think anything could make what we have weird unless we chose to let it.” Dean smiles at the memories Cas offers but wonders if he’s right. Is it possible to have the kind of relationship they have and add sexual endeavors to it without it changing into something ugly? “Never mind,” Cas says quietly, reading Dean’s thoughts as he often does. “I mean, I may be queer, but you’re straight. Not to mention you have that thing with Lisa. Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked; I just really liked kissing you, and I thought maybe,” but this time, Dean cuts Cas off. 

     “Look, Cas,” Dean says, but Cas doesn’t. “Look at me, Cas,” Dean amends, and this time, Cas’ blue eyes pull towards Dean. “I don’t think I’m one-hundred percent straight.” Cas gives a small huff of laughter.

     “I hadn’t noticed,” Cas says, that rare sarcasm of his shining through. "It was just supposed to be a stage kiss after all." 

     “I know. Shut up,” Dean says with a grin before continuing, “And that thing with Lisa is just a thing. It’s nothing really. Anyways, if we did decide to do this, it would be purely physical, right?” Cas nods. “I get to keep you as my best friend?” Cas nods again, his enthusiasm doubled at the idea of losing Dean. “And _this_ ,” Dean waves a hand between the two of them. “This isn’t going to make things weird?” Cas shakes his head. 

     “It can be whatever you want it to be,” Cas says softly, and Dean smiles. 

     “I’m a little bicurious, I’ll admit,” he tells Cas, that smile still on his lips. 

     “Well, I’m gay, so,” Cas says with a shrug, pulling a laugh out of Dean. 

     “Thank God for that,” Dean mutters before pulling Cas to him by the lapels of his costume and kissing him. The feeling is just as intense as before. Those lips on his, driving him recklessly to a slow death. Cas’ tongue parts Dean’s lips slowly, and when their tongues meet, Dean finds his hands worming into Cas’ hair to pull him closer. 

     “Wait,” Cas gasps, pulling away from Dean with lips already swollen and eyes incredibly wild. Dean groans playfully and lets his head fall to where Cas’ shoulder meets his neck. “We need boundaries.” Dean plants small kisses against Cas, claiming the entirety of his body as his own. “Stop it, Dean, I’m serious,” Cas says weakly, his nails scraping gently at the base of Dean’s scalp. 

     “Uh-huh, I’m listening,” Dean says, nosing behind Cas’ ear. 

     “This is purely physical, right?” Cas asks, a bit breathless from Dean’s invasive nosing. Dean makes an affirmative noise into Cas’ neck. Cas doesn’t know Dean can hear the tiny puffs of air he lets out at each of Dean’s kisses. “Okay, um, what _is_ this exactly?” Cas asks after a moment of frazzled silence. “Friends with benefits?” 

     “If you want to label it, sure,” Dean offers, tugging on Cas’ hair slightly because he doesn’t want to talk anymore; he wants to kiss Cas, and he wants Cas to kiss him. 

     “You’re clean, right?” Cas asks when Dean relents pulling on his hair. 

     “I’ve always used condoms, so I would assume so,” Dean says softly, pulling away to look at Cas. He’d have never imagined how delightful it would be to just lean over and kiss him, but now that he’s realized, he does so and revels in the tiny flip of his tummy. Cas smiles as Dean pulls away. 

     “I’m still mostly a virgin, so we’re good there. We should probably still use condoms, just in case.” Dean can see the wheels turning in Cas’ brain as he goes down his mental checklist, but Dean has been smacked across the face by the word 'virgin,' floored by the realization that sooner or later, Dean will be expected to have sex with Cas. He pulls away a bit. “What?" Cas asks, brushing gently at Dean's hair, taking in Dean's wide eyes with concern. "You didn’t know I was a virgin? You’re my best friend. I’d tell you if I got laid.” Dean barely hears him. “Dean, what is it?” Cas asks, bringing his hand back around to Dean’s face. The touch startles him back to reality. 

     “I, nothing, I just…I don’t really know what I’m doing here, Cas.” Dean suddenly crumbles from the level of confidence he usually sits on into practically nothing. He lets Cas see the vulnerability. He holds himself open, he never having known before now just how terrifying trusting someone could be. Cas runs his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, his brow pulled low over his eyes. 

     “Hey,” he says softly, drawing his thumb across Dean’s face slowly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Cas stares at Dean for a long moment before a small smile finds its way to his lips. “Just being here with you is enough for now,” and those words are enough to get Dean’s heart rate skittering back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>      The play that Cas and Dean are preforming in the beginning is actually a fanfic idea of mine that will be my next project after this series! It will be a historical AU based off the life of Frederick William II of Prussia and the fact that he tried to run away with his best friend and suspected lover. It may not follow through, but let me know if you'd be interested in reading such a fic! (If I do go through with writing it, sorry about the spoilers from the play... It was unavoidable)
> 
>      I'd love to know what you all thought of the chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

     And so began their relationship, their twisted, beautiful, messy relationship. They have always been Dean and Cas, Cas and Dean. Never would you find one without the other, and never would you want to. Without Cas, Dean is arrogant. He is reckless, and without Dean, Cas is blunt. He is heartless. They round each other out. They soften the edges and sharpen the pudge. They level each other. They better each other. They’ve been together all their lives, since the beginning of creation, but _never_ have they been together like this. Sure, they’ve never been these sweating palms or these frantic lips, these broken cries for more, but they’ve always needed each other. They’ve always been everything the other ever needed, a best friend, a brother, a confident, someone to beat at Call of Duty, but they've never known how much they needed _this_ until the sweating palms and the frantic lips becomes all that they have. Dean needs Cas in his entirety, every damn blink, breath, and smile.

      Which is precisely why he’s freaking out. Dean's never before needed someone to love, only someone to fuck, and here he is, thinking of Cas every single moment.

      “Hey, Dean,” Sam calls, startling him out of these thoughts. He is sitting at a picnic table in the yard of the high school. Dean’s head is still spinning from all that that night was, and his dorky brother is jogging towards him, a dopey grin on his face. 

     “Sammy,” Dean says, smiling and waving to his little brother. Sam takes a seat next to Dean on the bench.

     “Where’s Cas?” Sam asks, and Dean’s face heats before he can stop it. 

     “How should I know?” Dean asks with a defensive shrug. 

     “I don’t know. You’re always together. I just thought you might know,” Sam says, reaching into his backpack and pulling out an apple. 

     “Well, I don’t.” Dean left that night and has avoided Cas since. His window has been locked for the past three nights, and Sam doesn’t _know._ Dean fears that, should Sam find out his big brother was fooling around with a dude, he would find him repulsive, find in himself the disappointment Dean has always been accustomed to. “What do you need him for anyway?” 

     “I wanted to thank him,” Sam says, that dopey grin coming back full force around the chunk of apple in his mouth. “He said he’d put in a good word for me with a girl he’s been tutoring, and last period she asked me to get a milkshake with her after school.” Sam is practically giggling. Dean barks out a laugh. 

     “You go, Sammy!” He cheers, reaching a hand out and rustling Sam’s shaggy hair. 

     “Dean,” he groans, leaning away from his older brother, cheeks heating. After the blush subsides, he speaks again. “Would you mind driving us?”

     “Course not. So what’s her name?” Dean asks, still grinning at his brother. Sam’s eyes brighten immediately.

     “Her name is Jessica, and she’s awesome.” Sam’s grin comes back, fully doting now. Dean represses the urge to roll his eyes. 

     “Hey, guys,” a voice says, coming up on and sitting across from Dean. Dean goes rigid at the sound, his face heating as he remembers kissing him yet again. 

     “Cas,” Sam says excitedly, turning away from Dean to gush to Cas about his new girlfriend. “Thank you so much for talking to Jessica! She wants to go out for milkshakes later!” Cas lets out a laugh that makes Dean’s blush rise higher. 

     “That’s wonderful, Sam. I told her only the truth.” Sam grins at Cas a moment longer before turning back to Dean, but his gaze goes right over him. 

     “There she is,” he mutters, so Dean turns to follow the gaze of his baby brother’s sights. What he sees is a willowy girl with long blonde curls and a sweet smile aimed straight for Sam. 

     “She’s looking at you, Casanova,” Dean mutters, elbowing Sam to get him to stop staring. His baby brother’s eyes flash to his, slightly horrified, pulling a laugh out of Dean. “Why don’t you ask her if she wants to come over here?” Sam nods. 

     “Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly and turning his eyes back to Jessica. “Yeah, okay.” Then he stands and walks away. Dean watches him the whole time so he doesn’t have to stare at Cas staring at him. When Sam turns back and motions to them, Dean offers a slight wave. He doesn’t know that Cas does the same, making them look even more couple-y than they already do. Jessica smiles and puts a small wave up in response before following Sam over to where they are.

     “Hello, Jessica,” Cas says when she steps close enough. She smiles nervously.

     “Hi,” she says before glancing to Sam. He is looking back to her, as red as Dean has ever seen him. Dean barks out a laugh, and both sets of eyes cut to him, Sam horrified and Jess curious. 

     “Hey, I’m Dean, Sammy here’s big brother,” he says, seeing that Sam is clearly too nervous to make introductions himself. Jessica smiles again and shakes Dean’s hand gently. “You must be the infamous Jessica. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, even though he hasn’t. Sam looks appropriately traumatized.

     “Same goes for you,” Jessica says with a deep flush on her face. 

     “Uh, you wanna sit?” Sam asks shakily, but Jessica just smiles and nods, taking a seat on the end of Dean’s bench, leaving room for Sam between them. He takes his seat dutifully and silence falls around them. Dean can practically feel Sam panicking. 

     “So, Jessica,” he says, leaning around his baby brother, giving him another elbow to the ribs in the process. "You come here often?" he asks teasingly, and despite the fact that it wasn’t his best line, she pushes out a startled laugh before it becomes less forced. He winks at Sam when he looks over gratefully. The conversation comes back to life, Sammy and Jessica talking and giggling, Dean and Cas avoiding looking at each other. Lunch is in full swing by the time a touch against Dean’s back startles him out of actively ignoring Cas. Dean turns to see Lisa’s smiling face looking down to him. 

     “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning down and pecking his lips. His cheeks burn, and for the first time in a while, he cuts his eyes to Cas. Cas is looking away. 

     “Hi, Lisa,” Dean pushes out, moving where Lisa puts him as she takes a seat in his lap. His hands automatically come up to circle her waist. 

     “What’s going on?” she asks cheerfully, wrapping a loose arm around Dean’s shoulders and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Dean’s mind flashes back to Cas’ fingers tugging his hair, forcing him this way and that. Heat rises beneath her palm.

     “Uh, nothing much. This is Sam’s friend, Jessica,” Dean eventually says, and motions to Jessica. The two girls smile and exchange hellos. Jessica turns back to Sam, and Lisa soon enough turns back to Dean. He doesn’t know what to say. 

     “So, I tried calling you,” Lisa says instead, her voice quiet so it’s clear the conversation is just between the two of them. Lisa _had_ tried calling him, but it was after the play, and he was otherwise occupied. He felt too weird later to think about calling her back.

     “Yeah, sorry, I was with Cas,” he murmurs, feeling the ghost of Cas’ strong hands on him instead of her dainty fingers currently brushing over his cheeks. 

     “Oh, speaking of which,” Lisa says, raising her voice a little and turning to Cas. “I don’t appreciate you stealing my boyfriend,” she says, and Dean’s eyes snap to Cas, feeling sure the horrified look he sees there is reflected in his own face. Even Sam and Jess are looking over now, knowing and sadistic smiles growing on their faces. _Oh shit,_ he thinks, panic rising around him. _Shit, shit, shit. They know. It's over. I'm outed. Sam's gonna hate me, and Cas is never going to talk to me again because if_ I'm _out then so is he,_ but Dean, beneath the terror and panic, is confused. He looks to Lisa, only to find her smiling. “The play?” she says, reaching out and putting a hand on Cas’ arm, drawing his eyes from Dean’s to hers. 

     “Oh,” Cas says, obvious relief in his voice. She laughs. 

     “What did you think I meant?” she asks, drawing her hand back and resting it once again on Dean’s arm. Cas smiles a bit. 

     “I couldn’t think of a thing,” he says easily, as though there were anything easy about this. Dean feels a laugh shake through Lisa. 

     “Well, you did a wonderful job. I saw it at school the day before, and I thought it was good. But when I watched it the next night, I cried like a baby even though I knew what happened. It was so, _so_ moving. Oh, I was devastated.” Dean looks back to Cas because even though it’s weird between them right now, he still wants to watch his best friend receive the recognition he deserves. Cas doesn’t look as though he’s enjoying it like he should be. 

     “Thank you,” Cas murmurs, smiling to her before looking back down to his hands. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

     “Enjoyed it? God, I was shattered, absolutely miserable!" Lisa smiles again, before turning to Dean, eyes wide. “Oh crap. Speaking of miserable, I have to go. I have a test I have to finish. Hey, do you want to come over after school?” Her fingers are still brushing through his hair, and he really loves that, so he can't help but tell her yes. 

     “Wait, you said you’d drive me and Jess,” Sam says, looking away from the girl he just unconsciously nicknamed to stare at his brother. Dean knows from the blush on Jessica’s cheeks that she noticed. 

     “Oh, that’s fine, babe,” Lisa says and kisses Dean quickly before standing, her hand still on Dean’s shoulder. “I'll just come with you,” she says, winking and walking away. 

     “I should probably get going too,” Jessica says, reaching for her bag and standing. “My next class is all the way across campus. It was nice meeting you, Dean. Bye, Castiel. Bye, Sam,” she says, and offers Dean’s baby brother a shy smile before walking away.

     “If she’s leaving, I’m leaving,” Sam says, and before Dean can beg him not to go, not to leave him alone with Cas, he’s standing and pulling on his backpack. “Hey, by the way, can you give me the money to pay for me and Jess? I don’t want her to think I’m broke.”

     “You _are_ broke,” Dean says with a snort. 

     “Yeah, but you’re not,” he tosses before running after Jessica yelling, “Wait, hold on. I’ll walk you.” 

     “'A part-time job at Ellen's and _one_ summer mowing yards does _not_ mean I'm rich,” Dean mutters with a scoff. Then he realizes that he is alone with Cas. Any further comments die on his tongue. So Cas and Dean are alone, and Dean doesn’t know what to say. 

     “Dean,” Cas says with sigh. “Are you okay?” 

     “Yeah,” Dean says immediately with a snort. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

     “I don’t know...maybe because the last time I saw you, I had my tongue down your throat.”

     “Jesus, Cas, talk a little louder, would you?!” Dean spits, looking around to the bustling students around them. None of them spare them a glance apart from their own little worlds. 

     “Dean,” Cas sighs, leaning forward and trying to catch Dean’s eye. Dean doesn’t say anything, just stares at his clasped hands before him. The silence stretches into oblivion around them, and before he knows it, Dean is drowning in it. There has never been an awkward silence between Cas and Dean. Cas, the epitome of awkward, has never once in his entire twelve-year friendship with Dean caused an awkward moment, but now… _now,_ they sit in silence. Dean cannot think of a single solitary thing he wants to say to the person he never tires of talking to. 

     Finally, the bell rings. 

     “I’ll see you later,” Dean murmurs, standing to leave his best friend sitting there alone. 

     “Your window was locked,” Cas calls, freezing Dean. There have been only two times when the window separating his world and Cas’ has been locked. Once, before that first night, the very first one, and now. Dean turns around slowly, his eyes sliding to Cas. Cas looks hurt. He looks like someone set an earthquake on his entire world then burned the rubble just for fun. “Are you mad at me?” Dean sits back in front of Cas, his eyes wide. 

     “What? No, no. Of course not.”

     “Then was it… _us_? Because if it was, we can forget it. We can forget it ever happened, and go back to just being us, the normal us.” Cas looks wrecked. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. 

     “No,” Dean says firmly. “I just…I'm freaking out, Cas. I’ve never…you know…kissed a _guy_ before. I don’t know, man.” 

     “Dean,” Cas says gently, still leaning forward on his elbows and staring at Dean. He’s so close that Dean can’t help it when his eyes flash down to Cas’ lips. “I don’t want you to feel weird about it. We’re two consenting adults who just kissed. If you want to do more than that, fine, great. You’re hot as hell, and I won’t say I haven’t thought about it. But if you don’t, we _won’t._ I don’t want you to stop talking to me just because we made out. I don't want to lose my best friend." Dean doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but he holds Cas’ eyes to show that he doesn’t want to stop talking, that he doesn’t want to lose his best friend either. 

     “I think it might be best if that, us kissing, was a onetime thing,” Dean says eventually, scared that Cas will be mad. 

     “Okay,” Cas says with a smile, putting Dean's worries at ease. "If that’s what you want, then that’s what I want.” Dean grins at his best friend, a huge weight lifted off his shoulders and a horrible ache unfurling in his gut. The silence they sit in is no longer awkward. It is simply the silence of two people who have spent their entire lives together, who don’t need words to talk. After a moment or two though, Dean decides he wants to talk. 

     “You think I’m hot as hell?” he asks, to which Cas groans, grins, stands, and begins to walk away. Dean jumps up laughing and walks with him to class. 

     When they meet back up at the end of the day, Cas is leaned against the side of Dean’s car, his shirt rising slightly with his lean. 

     “Hey, gorgeous,” Dean calls, watching with amusement as Cas cracks open a confused eye. 

     “Hello, Dean.”

     “No, not you. I was talking to her,” he replies, running his hand over his car’s glossy, black finish. Cas snorts. 

     “Do you want me to leave you two alone? Cause I can leave,” Cas pushes himself off and mocks the start of walking away. 

     "Awe, don't listen to him, Baby. He just doesn't understand us," Dean croons, leaning close to his car, watching the sway of Cas' ass as he walks away. “Hey, wait,” Dean calls finally with a laugh, so Cas does, as he always does. “What’s up, buddy?” 

     “Nothing, I'm just making sure we’re still on for _Game of Thrones_ tonight?” 

     “Ah,” Dean groans, bringing a hand to his head. “I can’t. I told Sam I’d drive him to get milkshakes with Jessica, remember?”

     “It doesn’t come on until 8,” Cas says with a smile. “Do you think an ice cream date will last five hours?” 

     “No, but Lisa’s coming. I figure she’ll want to hang out after,” Dean says with a shrug. Cas smiles, but Dean doesn’t like the look of it. 

     “Yeah, okay. No problem,” he says, and pushes himself off Dean’s car for real. 

     “Why don’t you record it, and we can watch it tomorrow?” Dean offers because he does not like the sight of Cas walking away from him, not in the least.

     “Sure,” Cas says, but continues on his walk away. 

     “See you later,” Dean calls, one last attempt to make him stop, but Cas doesn’t answer with anything more than throwing a hand up in a half-assed wave. Just as Cas disappears around the corner, Sam and Jessica burst into Dean’s line of sight, talking and giggling to one another. Dean will have so much fun teasing Sam about this later, but for now, he forces a smile and unlocks the doors so they can crawl inside. Lisa comes out a few moments later, offering Dean a smile and kiss before climbing in and setting them off on their double date. 

     He takes them to Ellen's because Ellen's is homey and familiar, and Ellen is a gem and one of his mother's oldest friends. Sam orders himself and Jess milkshakes to share and drink them in a tiny booth that is very clearly not welcoming of Dean and Lisa. Instead, Dean and Lisa take their respective pie slices across the diner, taking turns speaking around the dessert. 

     “Hey,” she says once the pie between them is gone. “Cas was being really weird all day. Is he okay?” 

     “Cas?” Dean asks, licking his fork clean of any filling. “What do you mean?”

     “Well, he was spaced out all day long. In calculus, Mr. Singer called on him, and I don’t think he even knew what class he was in.” Dean shrugs. 

     “Calculus is boring.”

     “Not that you would know, Mr. Senior Still In Pre-Algebra,” Lisa ribs with a smile. 

     “Ouch. That hurt, Lis. And anyway, Bobby is like family. I know how boring he gets.” John's best friend Bobby has been there for them through all he could, buying them school clothes, attending anything and everything, baking birthday cakes. He is the father figure they spent their lives trying to sober out of their actual dad. Bobby is a blessing, but calculus is boring as fuck, and there's not much anyone can do about it.

     “Do you think Cas is okay?” She asks, bring him slowly back to reality.

     “I don’t know. It’s probably his mom or something. He hasn’t said anything to me.” 

     “Maybe it’s you,” Lisa suggests softly, her eyes on her fingers. Dean almost swallows the fork between his lips. 

     “ _What?_ ” he chokes, incredulous and hot faced.

     “I’m just saying, Dean. That kiss looked pretty real.”

     “It was a play. We were acting. It was supposed to look real.” 

     “Calm down, Dean. I’m just saying.” 

     “Yeah, you’ve been doing a lot of that.” Dean is angry. His mouth is sticky, his pride is hurt, and he feels like Lisa is accusing _him_ instead of Cas. Lisa’s brow furrows together. 

     “I don’t know why you’re getting angry. I just think he might have feelings for you.” 

     “He definitely does _not_ have feelings for me.” 

     “How do you know? Why is that so unbelievable?” 

     “Because! Because he’s straight, first of all,” Dean sputters, because, just because Cas is out to Dean doesn’t mean he’s out to everyone and telling anyone around here might as well be tattooing it on Cas' forehead for everyone to see, _including_ Cas’ mom. Lisa rolls her eyes.

     “Please. He’s president of the GSA. He is the gay of the gay-straight alliance. It doesn’t matter that he’s gay. Everyone already suspects it.”

     “His mother _doesn’t_ , and she can’t.” Dean sighs and stands. “You want a coffee?” he asks, and she nods. He leaves the booth immediately. "Two coffees please. Oh, and could you grab Ellen for me?" he asks the guy behind the counter. He says nothing, instead pours the coffees and disappears into the back to get Ellen. She comes out almost immediately, a grin spread across her lips. 

     "Dean Winchester," she croons, opening her arms and leaning across the counter to hug him. He smiles into her shoulder as he hugs her back. "Must be my lucky day seeing you twice in one week. Where's Cas? Is Sam here?" She pulls away and looks around her diner, spotting Sam and Jess with smile. 

     "That's his _date_ Jessica," Dean says, following her gaze and silently thanking her for not pushing the Cas situation. He'd almost gone a full two minutes without thinking about him. 

     "You boys are just growing up so fast," she says, a sad look in her eyes as she brings her hand up against his face. "Your mom would be so proud." 

     "Thanks, Ellen," he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. "Anyway, I should probably get back to my date. I just wanted to say hi." he says, raising the cups towards Lisa who is sitting at the booth on her phone. Ellen snorts. 

     "She looks concerned about your absence," she says sarcastically, and Dean grins. Ellen has never liked Lisa, or any of his girlfriends for that matter. He has a sneaking suspicion that happens to be because of the crush her daughter not-so-secretly has on him. 

     "Tell Jo I said hello, will you?" he requests with a grin as he walks away. 

     "I need you to work Tuesday," she calls, to which he brings the back of his hands to his ears, covering them as much as he can manage. 

     "La la la la la I can't hear you," he sings, hoping she can hear the smile in his voice. She rolls her eyes and retreats into the kitchen. “Did you hear that Stacy slept with Ryan?” Dean asks when he sits back down and hands Lisa her coffee. He does not give a rat’s ass about who Stacy is sleeping with, but he does care who Cas is sleeping with, and he knows that if he doesn't start a new topic now, she'll want to talk about it. Dean does not want to talk about it. 

     “Dean,” Lisa says, her mom voice in full swing. “We _need_ to talk about this.” Dean leans back and sighs.

     “Why are Cas’ feelings so important to you?”

     “Why aren’t they to you? He’s your best friend,” she counters, mirroring his leaning back and adding a glare. 

     “His feelings _are_ important to me, and yes, I know he’s my best friend. He’s been my best friend since I could say my alphabet. I just don’t care if he likes guys!” 

     “I don’t care if he likes guys either. I care if he likes _you_.” Dean takes a big drink of his coffee, praying that she thinks it’s the steam or the fight that has his cheeks flushed. 

     “Well, he doesn’t,” he says, and he really believes it. Then, thank God, Lisa lets it drop, the silence that then ensues nothing like the silence he shares with Cas. Instead, it is waiting for anger to break, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting and waiting and waiting, and Dean can’t stand it. “Well, I for one, want to go home and have sex with you.” Lisa rolls her eyes. Dean looks over to his baby brother and his date. They are talking, a smile on each of their faces. 

     “They’re having so much fun," she points out, following his train of thought. "We can’t just go home.”

     “Yeah, but we can still get out of here,” Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Lisa rolls her eyes, but stands to leave. “Hey, Sammy. We’re gonna take a drive. Call me when you get ready to go,” Dean tells Sam, shrugging into his jacket and receiving no response from his little brother. Dean rolls his eyes. “Sam Winchester wears make up.” Sam laughs at something Jessica says. “Sam Winchester cries his way through sex.” No response. “Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by his bed, and every morning when he wakes up he—”

     “ _Goodbye_ , Dean,” Sam says pointedly, and Dean chuckles his way out of the door. He then slides into his beautiful car next to his beautiful lady, all the while definitely _not_ thinking about how great it would feel to be cuddled up next to Cas getting ready to watch _Game of Thrones._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut shall ensue!

     “Dean,” Lisa moans, her bare chest pressed snugly down Dean’s. They are in the car on some dirt-paved side road. Dean’s hands are heavy on her, dragging over her hips, her ass, her breasts. He is trying to enjoy the curves instead of wish they weren’t there. He is trying to enjoy that she smells like perfume instead of cologne. He is trying to enjoy that she is Lisa instead of Cas. It’s not working so well, and she can tell. She grinds down hard on Dean, his pants still zipped and comfortable. “I want you so fucking bad,” she moans, running her hands through Dean’s hair, pulling him this way and that. Control and dirty talk. Two of Dean’s favorite things, but still, when he looks up and sees brown eyes instead of blue, he knows he’s fucked. And not in the fun way. 

     “Lisa,” he says, and the tone is enough to bring her grinding to a stop. “I don’t think I can do this.”

     “What? Why?” she asks, leaning back so that they are no longer pressed together. 

     “I don’t know,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face. He feels like a failure. _One_ make-out session with a guy and now he can’t get it up for his fucking hot girlfriend. _Thanks a lot, Cas._ Dean watches as Lisa moves off of him and begins to put her bra back, disappoint set firmly into her motions. 

     “Was it me? I know I gained three pounds, but,” she starts, watching him sadly with her hands in her lap. Dean cuts her off. 

     “No, no. You’re perfect,” he tells her, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “I think I’m just too stressed.” 

     “Sex is a great stress reliever,” she says, leaning forward and catching her lips between Dean’s. Even that feels wrong. 

     “I know,” he says, pulling away softly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” but he does. _Castiel_ Fucking _Milton is what’s wrong with me,_ he thinks viciously, lifting his shirt violently off the ground and pulling it on. Lisa pouts for a moment before resuming getting dressed and crawling back up front to go get Sam. When they get back to Ellen’s, they find the lovebirds still curled into that little booth, talking like they haven’t known each other since preschool. 

     “Hey, Sammy,” he says, stepping forward because he doesn’t want to play games anymore. “Are you two ready to go?” 

     “Awe, Dean,” Sammy says, throwing on his big puppy dog eyes. “Do we have to?” 

     “Yeah, Dad’ll be home soon. We don’t want him worrying about you.” 

     “Not like he’d notice anyway,” Sam mumbles before glancing back to Jessica. “Could Jess come over for a little bit?” Dean shrugs nonchalantly, mentally cheering because his brother _actually_ has a pair. 

     “It’s cool with me if it’s cool with her parents,” he says, taking Lisa’s hand into his with an absent smile in her direction. 

     “Actually,” Jess says, and Sam’s eyes snap back to her. “My mom said I had to be home by dinner.” Upon seeing Sam’s disappointment, she adds a soft apology. 

     “Nah, it’s cool. I’ll take both of you beautiful ladies home,” Dean offers when Sam says nothing. “See you, Ellen,” he calls, bringing his free hand up in a wave in her direction. 

     “Bye, boys. You be careful out on that road, you hear me, Dean Winchester?” she calls, her hands on her hips next to her customer. 

     “Yes ma’am,” Dean says with a smile, opening the door for Lisa. 

     “Bye, Ellen,” Sam calls with a wave. She waves back, and the door shuts after the four of them as they make their way to the Impala. Dean drops Lisa off first with a quick kiss and a promise to call later. When they get to Jessica’s house, he hopes he doesn’t have to yell at Sam to get out of the car and walk her to the door, and his baby brother doesn’t disappoint. He sits watching them—yeah, okay, whatever, it’s his baby brother—as they say goodbye; he’s just about to turn away when he catches sight off Jess leaning in and planting one right on his brother’s dweebish cheek. He has to clamp his mouth shut to keep from cheering. When Sam comes back to the car, he is beaming brighter than anything he’s ever seen, and it spreads to Dean, even through all of his performance issues and identity crises. 

     “Sammy’s in love, Sammy’s in love,” Dean sings the whole ride home, but Sam can’t be bothered. He still has a sticky, glossy lip print on his cheek. 

     When Dean gets home, he drops Sammy off and goes straight to Cas. He doesn’t bother with the front door, instead, heading for the window. He doesn’t bother knocking either, instead slipping his fingers into the crack Cas always leaves open just for him. He slides through the window with a lithe grace, landing next to Cas’ bed with a soft thud. Cas looks up from the book between his hands, eyes shining.

     “Dean,” he breathes, marking his place in his book and setting it to the side. “I thought you were with Lisa,” he says, and sits up as Dean sits down beside him. 

     “I was,” Dean says with a shrug. “Then I wanted to watch TV with you.” Cas gives him a grateful smile. 

     “Do you want to watch _Criminal Minds?_ ” he asks hesitantly. Dean smiles, and they watch _Criminal Minds_ shoulder to shoulder until time for _Game of Thrones_ and then they watch that in much of the same way. When the TV leaves the room around them flickering with credits, they sit in silence. “Wow,” Cas says, referring to the end of the episode as he flicks the TV off. 

     “I want to kiss you,” Dean says, referring to the absolute control it took to keep from leaning over and kissing him right then and there. 

     “ _What?_ ” Cas says, turning and staring at Dean in the darkness. 

     “I was wrong…what I said at lunch. I so _don’t_ want to keep us kissing a onetime thing." Dean blinks, trying to clear Cas’ face in the darkness so he can tell if he totally overstepped his boundaries. 

     “But you said you wanted it to be a onetime thing,” Cas sputters. Dean wants nothing more than to lean forward and take Cas’ lips between his. 

     “I know what I said. I really believed it too. Then me and Lisa started getting at it, and it...it just wasn’t working. I couldn’t get it up for her, and she was saying all this stuff about how real the kiss looked and how she thought you might have feelings for me, and I just…”

     “Do _you_ have feelings for _me,_ Dean?” Cas asks, leaning away from Dean with wide and startled eyes. 

     “I,” he starts but silences upon seeing the horrified look on Cas’ face. “No. I just think you’re ‘hot as hell’, and that you’re a really good kisser,” Dean offers with a shrug. Cas rolls his eyes, half a grin on his face. “So…I can kiss you?”

     “Yes, Dean. You can kiss me,” Cas says, and in the time it takes for Dean to grin and lean in, Cas has already closed his eyes. When their lips meet, it is hot and heavy and everything they need. Dean gets it up for Cas with just a little kissing and a little necking and a little rubbing. Of course, Cas’ hushed whimpers only add to the situation. 

     Dean pulls away from Cas just long enough to reach down and free himself from the unbearable pressure of his jeans. Cas takes advantage of the moment to climb in Dean’s lap, his knees strattling him and his hands running through his hair. 

     “Is this alright?” Cas whispers, pulling away to kiss at Dean’s jaw. Dean shows his assent by bringing his hips up to meet Cas’, earning himself a groan against his mouth. Dean brings his hips up again, holding tight to Cas’ waist, barely able to think through Cas grinding down on him. “Fuck,” Cas growls, nipping at Dean’s neck and soothing over the mark with his tongue. Dean lays Cas back against the bed, cherishing the moment of wild, virginal excitement Cas shows before Dean is smashing his lips back against Cas', hands pulling insistently at his shirt until eventually, it winds up on the floor with Dean’s following close behind. They both gasp at the heat of the other against their skin. 

     “Shit,” Dean hisses, twining his fingers through Cas’ and pinning his hands high above his head. Cas eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated as he takes in every move Dean makes for him. Dean watches those eyes as he mouths along Cas’ jaw, nips against his earlobe, sucks on his neck. He watches those eyes for every moment he can, and if he weren’t already rock hard and ready to roll, the look alone that Cas is giving him would be enough. He drops his eyes as he drops his tongue into the hollow at the base of Cas’ throat. Dean hears Cas audibly swallow, and the sound is so appealing that Dean cannot help but move to plant a kiss against Cas’ Adam’s apple while squeezing Cas’ fingers just as tightly as he’s squeezing Dean’s. 

     Dean continues his trail downward, stopping to lock eyes with Cas once again before he flicks his tongue out against Cas’ nipple. Cas hisses in response, so Dean takes the flesh between his teeth and sucks until he knows Cas is probably raw, then he laps at it again and again with his tongue to soothe it. Dean then decides that is low enough and begins his ascent back to Cas’ mouth, but apparently Cas has other ideas, rolling them easily and landing back astride Dean. Dean’s hands hook behind Cas’ knees, lining up their dicks so that his every thrust up meets Cas’ grind down perfectly. They writhe against each other for a long while, until Cas’ breathing gets ragged and Dean’s jeans become too fucking much, even unzipped. 

     “Cas,” Dean gasps, bringing their slow friction to a grinding halt. “I’m gonna come in my pants if we keep this up.” Dean knows he probably looks a bit pathetic, but when Cas leans down to kiss him, pulling gently at his bottom lip as he sits away, Dean realizes that he is full out begging. 

     He’s not even ashamed. 

     Cas dismounts Dean long enough to shimmy out of his sweat pants and boxers, allowing Dean a moment to do the same before climbing back up, eliciting a broken sob from Dean when he takes both of them in hand. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and tries uselessly to buck up into Cas’ hand, bringing one of his own to wrap around Cas’ and bridge the gap between palm and fingers. 

     Cas’ grip is tight and slow, agonizing, really. He keeps Dean from moving with weight of his body, the touch of his hand. After what feels like an eternity of glorious, agonizing jerking, Cas picks up the pace a bit, rocking his hips against Dean’s with a slight grunt every time. Cas’ rhythm is soon stuttering out, giving way to frantic, erratic thrusts and jerks, and with the added friction of Cas’ cock rubbing against Dean’s—not to mention the _sounds_ Cas is making, holy hell—Dean isn’t foolish enough to think that he’ll last much longer.

     Dean’s whole world is spining. It’s too much, it’s never enough, and Dean opens his eyes because he wants to see Cas when he comes. He needs to see Cas. It takes a moment of watching Cas, of seeing him come undone by Dean’s hand to push him over the edge. He comes in hot spurts on his stomach, on his and Cas’ joined hands, and a few seconds later, Cas is coming too, rubbing his dick against Dean’s to draw the last drop of come out of both of them. 

     “Fuh-huh-huck,” Dean whines, when Cas finally lets him go and rolls off, nuzzling close beneath his arm. If Dean weren’t so drained, he would snort because _of course_ Cas is a cuddler. The nerd. The moment lasts for a small eternity, Cas curled perfectly against Dean’s side like he doesn’t belong anywhere else and Dean holding him tight like he wouldn’t allow him to be anywhere else anyway. Dean reaches over and takes a handful of tissues and wipes his stomach off, offering some to Cas to clean his hands before tossing them in the garbage can by Cas’ bed for later disposal. Then, he pulls Cas tight to him again and pretends the rapid cadence of his heart is just from the sex. 

     The next morning hits Dean like a bag of bricks, but instead of pretending the pain doesn’t exist, he faces it head on. He is eager to see Cas, so much so that after crawling back into his own window, he only showers and catches a couple hours of sleep before heading back over to Cas’ house with Sam half asleep in the back seat. 

     “Hey,” he says, pulling up to the curb where Cas is walking, his backpack bouncing between his shoulders. “Need a ride?” 

     “I don’t know. Are you a stalker?” he asks, a grin he’s trying hard to hide staining his lips. 

     “I do crawl into your window occasionally,” Dean allows with a shrug. Cas grins and climbs in, sitting closer on the front bench than strictly necessary. Not that Dean minds. He’s been thinking about being close to Cas ever since last night. “So, where to, sir?” Dean asks teasingly, but Cas only rolls his eyes.

     “The stars,” he says, to which Dean grins and drives off. When they get to the school, Sam perks up when he sees Jess walking alone to her locker.

     “Later, Dean,” he calls, jumping out and running after her. Dean watches him catch her with a small grin to match Jessica’s large one. Dean likes this girl for Sam. Dean also knows that when he gets out of the car, he begins strutting about like a dude who got laid last night, the joke being that no one knows it was Cas instead of Lisa. 

     “I’ll see you later,” Cas says, stepping out and heading towards the doors. 

     “Hey, wait. Where are you going?” Dean asks, stepping after Cas, pocketing his keys and pulling his jacket closer around him.

     “My locker,” Cas says, raising it like a question.

     “I’ll come with you. I need to get a few things out of mine anyway.”

     “Do you even remember your combination?” Cas asks with an incredulous scoff. Dean shrugs.

     “Maybe…no. Do you?” 

     “Yes, Dean,” Cas says with a fond smile, and together they walk to their lockers, laughing about a joke Dean told to get Cas to smile. So what if Dean’s completely gone on his best friend? It's fine. Cas isn’t interested. He’s made that very clear. If having the occasional sex with him will be all that he gets, Dean’s okay with that...just as long as he gets to keep Cas as his best friend. 

     As it turns out though, the sex isn’t just occasional. In fact, that very night, he’s back at Cas’ house, kissing and sucking and devouring. The next night is the same issue. He and Lisa grow farther and farther apart. He still forces himself to sleep with her if only to convince everyone else he's not in love with his best friend, but every time he kisses her, he feels as though he should be feeling stubble. It even gets to the point where right as that forced relief washes over Dean, he accidentally moans Cas’ name. That sure made Lisa mad, even after Dean swore he was just saying ‘ass.’ Even now, as they sit together at the lunch table, she will hardly meet Dean’s eyes. 

     Sam is chattering happily away at his girlfriend—the punk finally got the nerve to ask Jess to be his girlfriend—and Cas is sitting peacefully reading a book. It has been nearly a month since they started this best-friends-by-day, sex-partners-by-night endeavor, and Dean has never been happier or more confused in his life. Dean is watching Cas, and when he comes to the end of his book, he looks up, confused as though he didn’t realize he was in reality instead of the fictional land his book sent him to. 

     “You finish that one?” Dean asks, and Lisa glances at him because he doesn’t care about books. He never has before. 

     “Yes. It was very intriguing,” Cas says with a smile and a nod. He doesn’t look at the beautiful brunette giving him death stares because she isn’t dumb. She knows that Cas is stealing her boyfriend from her despite all that Dean swears he doesn’t have feelings for him, and she doesn’t like it one bit. She’s sure, but she’s not sure enough about _Dean’s_ feelings to call him out on it. 

     “Do you want another one? We could go to the library? I need another Vonnegut anyways,” Dean says with a shrug. He really did finish _Cat’s Cradle._ He really does want to get Cas alone in a closet and suck his cock down his throat. 

     “Okay,” Cas says, putting the used book in his bag, completely oblivious to the fact that Dean is mentally tearing his clothes off. The thought alone makes him exceedingly hot. 

     “I’ll go too,” Lisa says, pulling her purse higher on her arm and standing with Dean. His smile deflates. 

     “You don’t have to do that, Lis. I’ll just see you later?” he asks, and leans forward to kiss her cheek. 

     “It's fine; I want to go. I need a new book too,” she says and pulls a pair of sun glasses out of her bag and puts them on. 

     “Okay,” Dean murmurs, and walks between his two fuck buddies to the library. When they get there, Cas immediately tears off for the historical fiction section, but Lisa is sticking to Dean like white on rice. “Uh,” he starts, detaching his arm from her vise-like grip. “I’m gonna go hit the head,” he mutters, and leaves the library. He really does go to the bathroom, but as soon as he checks that there is no one else in any of the stalls, he locks the door and pulls out his phone. 

     “Bathroom by library. Knock once,” he types and sends it to Cas. He stares himself in the mirror. All the things his father said to him about gays, about people just like him, just like Cas, rush at his reflection. _Disgusting, unnatural problem._ He blinks. Dean doesn’t think that Cas is bad. Dean thinks that Cas is everything good in the world. Dean? Dean might be all those things, but Cas _isn’t._

     “Dean,” Cas hisses, his knuckles rapping on the door once. Dean steps away from the mirror and unlocks the door for Cas and locks it back as he steps through. “Are you okay?” he asks, turning to Dean with wide, concerned eyes. Dean steps closer and traps Cas’ face between his hands, pulling him roughly to him in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Cas gasps, but Dean takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Cas’ mouth. “Dean,” Cas gasps again, reeling away and wrapping his fingers into Dean’s hair. Dean is sucking away at Cas’ neck, mouthing at his collarbones and licking against the sweet spot behind his ear. 

     “Shh,” Dean soothes, nipping against the strain in Cas’ neck then licking over it with his tongue. “We don’t have much time.” With that, Dean begins to palm at Cas’ crotch, drawing a groan out of him. Soon enough, he is dropping to his knees and tugging Cas’ jeans around his ankles. 

     “Jesus Christ,” Cas groans when Dean licks a stripe along the underside of his dick and stops to suck at the head. Dean hums in agreement, drawing another groan out of Cas. They discovered Dean’s little affinity for sucking cock a few days ago, and since then, that’s all Dean has wanted to do. Every time he and Cas are alone, he is on his knees. Every time he is alone, he is fantasizing about being on his knees with Cas. Dean thinks he might have a problem, but it’s just so fucking hot. Seeing Cas come apart with his cock down Dean's throat...it’s the biggest gratification Dean’s ever gotten. Dean likes knowing he’s making who he’s with happy, especially when it's Cas and he enjoys what he’s doing so much. 

     Dean knows Cas likes it dirty. He likes the sloppy sounds and the spit all over Dean’s face and the occasional fingering. Today though, he is practically doing all the work for Dean. He has both hands threaded through his hair and is groaning, fucking up into Dean’s mouth. Dean lets Cas do what he wants, keeping the pressure tight and his tongue working even as he unzips his own pants and takes his dick into his hand. Dean moans around Cas’ cock, and Cas lets out a groan like sin. He’s close, so Dean releases his own dick with a slight whimper and takes Cas’ hips into his hands, stilling his thrusting immediately. Cas whimpers. 

     “Dean,” he whines, and Dean has half a mind to bend him over and fuck him right here and now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slows his pace to an agonizingly slow speed, watching Cas come undone before him. He can feel him writhing in his grip, but he is no match for Dean’s strength. Cas’ lithe frame is nothing compared to Dean’s body with four years of powerlifting behind him. “Dean,” Cas practically screeches when he comes to a complete stop, his tongue just lapping gently at Cas’ head. “Fucking _move,_ ” he hisses, his fingers pulling at Dean’s hair. Dean hums around his cock before taking him down to the base again and again, holding him with Cas’ head down his throat as he comes. When Dean feels Cas begin to wilt in the back of his throat, he pulls off with a pop, wringing the last bit of come from him and earning himself a whimper. “Goddamn,” Cas mutters, sinking against the wall, his face sated and exhausted. Dean grins and starts fisting his cock, still looking up at Cas. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cas asks, watching lazily as Dean jerks himself. 

     “I don’t wanna wait for it to go down,” he manages to grind out around the ecstasy of flesh on flesh. 

     “Let me help,” Cas offers, sliding down to his knees and fisting Dean properly, tugging him low and tight with the occasional twist of the wrist and swipe of thumb over his head. Dean groans, pulling Cas closer and kissing him hot and heavy again. He’s sure that Cas can taste his own come in Dean’s mouth, and the thought makes the heat in his stomach coil tighter. 

     “Fuck, Cas,” he groans, arching up into him and biting down on his neck. “Talk to me. I need you to talk to me,” he grunts, hissing as Cas swipes his thumb around Dean’s head again. 

     “You’re so fucking hot,” Cas mutters, his breath hot against Dean’s ear and neck. “You like me fisting your hard cock don’t you? You couldn’t even wait until we got home. You’re such a little cock slut. Did you like sucking my dick? Did you like the taste of my come in your mouth? I know you did.” Cas scoots closer, taking Dean’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbling slightly. “You love this, don’t you? Fucking around in the school bathroom…” Dean is so fucking close. Cas speeds up as though he could feel it too. “Anyone could just walk in and see you with my dick in your mouth. Then everyone would know you’re fucking _mine_ ,” and just like that, Dean is coming all over Cas’ hand, covering him in hot spurts and groans that taste like sex. Dean kisses Cas’ opened mouth, panting against his lips and seeking tongue, and when he pulls away, he rests his forehead on Cas’ shoulder and just breathes. They sit in silence for a long moment, their heartbeats slowly returning to normal. 

     “We should clean up,” Cas says after a while, and Dean nods blearily, nearly falling over when Cas moves from under him and steps to the sink. 

     “Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans with a grin, tucking his dick back into his pants and zipping up. “That was hot,” he says and stands, walking over to Cas and kissing his neck. Cas smiles softly, scrubbing his hands to get Dean’s come off of them. 

     “I’m going to go find a book,” Cas says after a moment, turning off the water and pulling paper towels out of the dispenser. He isn’t looking at Dean. “You might want to wait a minute or two. We don’t want anyone thinking anything if they saw.” Dean scoffs. 

     “Yeah, we don’t want them thinking we're gay,” Dean says jokingly. Even though people don’t talk about it, everyone knows Cas is gay. And Dean has always flirted, regardless of sex. So what if they thought he took that next step? 

     “You’re right, Dean. We _don’t_. My mom would _kill_ me if she found out, kick me out, refuse to let me see you.” Cas angrily throws his paper towels in the garbage can. Dean looks more incredulous still. 

     “Are you _mad at me_?” Dean asks, stepping forward and dipping his head so Cas has to meet his eyes. 

     “No,” Cas sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s just had sex, but then again he always looks like that, so maybe no one will notice. “It’s just...you came when I said people would catch us and think you’re mine.” 

     “So? The possibility of getting caught makes it ten times hotter,” Dean says with a defensive and confused shrug. 

     “But that isn’t what did it for you. You came when I said they’d know you were _mine_ ,” Cas says, refusing to let Dean look away. An eternity passes. 

     “You’re all I ever think about,” Dean doesn’t say. “I want to be more than your fuck buddy,” Dean doesn’t say. “I’m in love with you,” Dean doesn’t say. “What do you want me to say, Cas?” Dean says instead, and Cas sighs. 

     “I don’t want you to say anything, Dean. I just.” Cas lets out a shaky breath and runs his hand through his hair again. 

     “Why did you even say it if it was gonna be a problem?” 

     “I didn’t mean…I don’t know…” An eternity passes, and for every second, Dean tries to pretend he isn’t hurt. “I need a new book, so I’m going to go get one, and I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” And then he’s unlocking the door and leaving Dean alone with no one but his reflection. _Winchesters don’t tolerate queer. Gays are what’s wrong with the world. Queers deserve to die. Faggots are fucking disgusting._ His dad’s voice is harsh, but he is no longer staring at a poor gay couple crossing his path or a TV broadcast about same sex marriage. Instead, he is staring his son dead in the eye telling him he’s worthless because he likes Cas. 

     Dean wonders if maybe he's right... He sighs before pulling open the door and sauntering back into the library. He doesn’t see Cas, but he see’s Lisa, so he goes up to her and wraps an arm around her waist. “You ready?” he asks her, glancing down to the paperback she holds between her hands. 

     “Did you not want a Vonnegut?” Lisa asks, pushing her hair back from her face concernedly. 

     “Nah,” he says shrugging. “They didn’t have the one I wanted.”


	5. Chapter 5

     Dean doesn’t see Cas again until later that night. He and Sam sit in the living room playing Mario Kart (Dean is just letting Sam win so the little bitch won’t cry), and John is dead to the world, passed out in his bedroom. 

     “Oh, fuck you,” Dean shouts, fishtailing and spinning across the banana peel his little brother threw at him. Sam laughs and crosses the finish line ahead of Dean for the sixth time that night. “Whatever,” Dean grumbles, tossing the steering wheel to the couch and standing. “I’m going outside.” 

     “I’m gonna call Jess,” Sam announces, his face smug. 

     “You do that,” Dean teases and walks outside. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and takes one out to light. As he inhales, he sees Cas leave his house, but he is content to just sit and watch. He knows Cas is still weirded out about earlier, and Dean doesn’t blame him. He _did_ shoot his load all over Cas just because of some stupid claim that didn’t mean anything anyways. Dean flicks his ashes with a sigh. 

     Cas is beautiful, no doubt. He’s six feet of tight, lean muscle, smooth, tanned skin, and big, blue eyes. He is strong jaw lines, high cheekbones, and a head full of constant sex hair. He’s beautiful, and he’s Dean’s best friend in the world. He’s been here through it all, and just because Cas doesn’t like Dean the way he likes Cas doesn’t mean Cas doesn’t still love him. 

     “That’s bad for you,” a voice says, and Dean realizes he was so involved in watching Cas walk away that he missed the little sister slipping out behind him. Well, Dean supposes she isn’t so little any more. She’s only two years younger and just as beautiful as Cas. They are different, but equally beautiful. She is five feet, six inches of soft curves, porcelain skin, and smoldering green eyes. She is bow-shaped lips, sloping cheek bones, and long, red hair. She has every ounce of sex appeal that Dean’s ever been attracted to in a woman, but he could never be attracted to _her_ like that. Changing her smelly diaper at three will put a guy off real quick.

     “I know,” he says, taking another hit, still very blatantly following her brother with his eyes. 

     “Are you and him okay?” she asks, taking a seat next to him on the porch step. 

     “Sure,” he says, taking another long pull on his cigarette. “Why wouldn’t we be?” Anna shrugs. 

     “I don’t know.” A long moment passes. Dean continues to smoke, staring after Cas until he turns a corner and removes himself from Dean’s sight. “Listen, Dean, my mom is still pissed at him for being the president of the GSA, and she's still pissed at him for writing that play. She’s none too happy with you either for kissing him, but she still thinks it was all for the play.”

     “It was.”

     “Right, because I don’t hear you two at night,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Dean flushes a deep red, fumbling to think of some way, _any_ way to deny it. “Even if I didn’t, I have eyes. I see the way you two look at each other, and so do other people.”

     “What? People are saying stuff?” he asks, flicking his cigarette into the grass easily. She shrugs.

     “They’ve always said stuff. It’s weird for you two to be so close.”

     “He’s my best friend,” Dean says defensively. Anna puts her hands up.

     “It’s more than that though, and people can tell. So they’ve started talking, and like I said, that’s not really new, but now I’ve started hearing it because I see it too.” Her green eyes narrow on him, and Dean mentally rolls his eyes in preparation for her _if you hurt my brother I’ll kill you_ speech. “He really loves you,” she says, startling him. 

     “I love him too. He’s my best friend in the whole world,” Dean says, because he _so_ does not want to talk about his totally un-platonic feelings for Cas with his little sister. 

     “So don’t hurt him,” she says, and Dean rolls his eyes internally again. _There it is,_ he thinks dryly. “Because you really could. If Mom finds out, she would never speak to him again. Not that that’s the worst fate there is, but she could inflict so much worse if she wants.” Dean says nothing. He wants to light another cigarette, but his eighteenth birthday is still months away and he hates asking people to buy them for him. “I’m just saying, please be careful with him, with _whatever_ this is that you guys are doing.” 

     “Aye, aye Captain,” Dean says. He is so done with this conversation. He is so embarrassed that, if he were to be dissected right here, he feels sure his organs would be found liquified. Anna offers Dean a smile before standing and walking back to her house. Dean wonders dryly as he watches her walk away if great asses run in the family or if that’s just a Cas and Anna thing. Dean sighs and puts his head in his hands. 

     “So, you and Cas,” a new voice from behind him says, and Dean jerks around so fast that his head spins. Sam is standing behind the screen door, one of his socks falling to his ankle and his hair sticking up on one side. 

     “Sam,” he says, swearing that his heart is breaking. “Sam please, listen to me. It’s not what you think.” Sam pushes open the door and walks to Dean. Dean is waiting for him to tell him that he’s worthless, tell him he’s a failure, tell him he’s repulsive. He doesn’t think he can stand hearing that from his brother, so he swallows down his tears and tries to speak again. “Cas and I…we’ve kind of been...seeing each other…sort of.” Sam stares him for a long moment, and Dean sees himself losing his brother, losing everything in the aftermath of this one single admittance. Tears simmer in his eyes.

     “Okay. Can we order pizza for supper?” he asks, and Dean’s eyes snap to him. 

     “What?”

     “Pizza, can we order some?”

     “I…sure. Did you hear what I said?”

     “Yeah, I heard you. You and Cas are dating, sort of.”

     “And you’re just okay with it?” Dean asks, studying Sam’s face carefully to see if he’s really okay. 

     “Does he make you happy?” Sam asks, turning and looking at Dean. Dean can barely look him in the face. He feels sure that he’ll see disgust and disappointment in his brother’s face, but all he sees is curiosity. 

     “Yeah, Sam. You know he does,” Dean says, his throat tight as he swallows. He threads his fingers together between his knees. 

     “Then I don’t care. I mean, okay, it’s a little weird, I guess, but whatever. As long as you’re happy.” Sam shrugs. Dean stares at his little brother, absolutely incredulous. 

     “You are the best,” Dean says, wrapping an arm around his little brother’s shoulders and pulling him against his side as the dread finally washes away from him. 

     “You’re a dork,” Sam laughs, ducking his head as Dean ruffles his hair. “I mean, you’d do the same for me.” 

     “All day, every day,” Dean replies with a smile. “But, Sammy, keep it quiet. I don’t want dad to know. He would be pissed.” 

     “Yeah…he would. Okay. I have a question, by the way,” Sam says, pulling away from Dean and turning to look at him.

     “What? And I swear if you ask who’s the chick in our relationship I’m gonna split your lip, ‘cause neither of us are and that's kind of the whole point." Sam lets out a horrified squeak around his flushed cheeks. 

     “Gross! No!" he exclaims, reeling away and closing his eyes to burn the mental image and find his question again. "I see and hear _way_ too much of your sex life as it is and I want to see and hear even less of it with Cas." He shudders, and Dean grins, finding ever the pleasure in making Sam uncomfortable. "Okay, my question is, why Lisa if you’re with Cas?” Sam asks finally, and Dean’s playful banter deflates. 

     “I don’t really know. It’s really complicated.”

     “You can tell me,” Sam promises, and Dean knows that. He thinks about it for a moment before deciding to tell him everything. “So,” Sam says when Dean finishes. “Let me get this straight. You kissed Cas and then he wanted you to kiss him again, but with no strings attached. So you did. And since then you’ve been falling for him, but all the while, _he_ thinks it’s just a friends with benefits, no strings attached kind of thing? And you haven’t broken up with Lisa because you think that somehow, she can be your gay cover and convince people you _aren’t_ in love with Cas?” 

     “Pretty much,” Dean says, hanging his head between his knees. 

     “Dude,” Sam says, his hair hanging in his eyes as he looks at his big brother. “That’s messed up.” Dean scoffs. 

     “Tell me about it.” 

     “So what are you going to do?” 

     “What _can_ I do?” Dean asks, raising his head with a shrug. 

     “I don’t know, man,” Sam says with a soft huff. “You could tell him. There’s always the chance that he likes you back.” 

     “Yeah, thanks for that, Sammy,” Dean says sarcastically. Sam rolls his eyes and huffs again. 

     “I’m just saying. It sounds like a set up for some cheesy rom-com. Stands to reason that it would end like one. The girl always gets her hero.” Sam winks at him, and Dean bitchfaces him, because thank you very much, he _is_ the hero. 

     “Actually," Dean starts seriously. "He might already know." Dean sighs, earning himself wide eyes from Sam. 

     “What?” he asks, leaning forward to catch Dean's eye again. “He already knows you're in love with him?”

     “I'm not in _love_ with him,” Dean tries to protest weakly, but Sam is already talking over him.

     “Why the hell are you here then? How did he find out? What did he do?”

     “Christ, Sammy,” Dean interrupts with a roll of his eyes before he can ask him to tell him exactly word for word what he said like some ten-year-old girl. “It was weird. I didn't exactly have control over telling him.”

     “What exactly does that mean?” Sam asks, and Dean huffs out a laugh because he forgot he does indeed have a ten-year-old little sister instead of a thirteen-year-old brother. Might as well call him Samantha.

     “You don't wanna know.” Dean assures with a sly smile at his brother, praying that it will be enough to let Sam know he really _doesn’t_ want to know. 

     “Yes, I do,” Sam pushes, so Dean cuts him a sideways glance.

     “He was jerking me off in the school bathroom, and when I came, it was because he said anyone who walked in would know I was his,” Dean says, watching with halfhearted glee as the horror makes its way onto his little brother's face.

     “Gross!” Sam shouts, reeling away from Dean with his face screwed up in disgust. Dean laughs a little.

     “Told you that you didn't want to know,” Dean says with a shrug. “If it makes you feel any better, this is so not how I was wanting to tell you I like dudes too.” The horror leaks out of Sam's face.

     “There are worse ways I could have found out,” Sam says with a shrug and a small smile. “At least you were clothed this way.” Dean snorts and stands, ready to make his way inside. When Sam stands, Dean wraps and easy arm around his shoulder and begins to lead him inside feeling lighter than he has in weeks. “By the way,” Sam says before they get through the screen door. “You guys haven’t...here...in your room or anything, right?” Sam asks, that horrified look coming back to mingle with desperate hopeful. Dean shakes his head.

     “Nah...” Dean says, watching with glee as relief washes over Sam. “But we have in yours,” and the shriek that Sam lets out is instant gratification that sends Dean into a fit of laughter even as Sam bounds down the hall yelling about disinfecting his sheets. “Better get your desk too!” Dean calls after him, laughing when Sammy yells again.

     “Gross, Dean!” Dean smiles and makes his way to his room. Cas is not waiting in his room when he arrives, so with a small surge of disappointment, he pulls his headphones on and drifts into the clutches of sleep before he can decide otherwise. 

     He dreams in shades of blue. 

     The lunch table the next day is crowded with its usual suspects. Jess, Sam, Cas, Dean, and Lisa. They all sit together and they laugh together. Dean keeps stealing glances at Cas, all the while imagining his lips on Cas’. He knows it has reached a crisis point. He keeps watching Cas laugh. Even with his fucking hot girlfriend slyly sliding her hand up his thigh, he watches Cas. He watches him, watches his every blink, his every inhale…right up until a new face arrives at their lunch table. Even if the new face hadn’t been wearing a v-neck that practically showed her nipples, the smile that she brings out of Cas is enough to make Dean see her in a new light, one that makes Dean hate her.

     “Meg,” Cas says, his eyes light and mouth set in a smile. Dean’s eyes narrow. 

     “Clarence,” says Meg, a rolling lilt in her voice. She grins down at Cas, brown eyes twinkling dangerously. 

     “Sit, please,” Cas says, waving to the empty bench next to him, smiling wider when Meg sits closer than strictly necessary. 

     “Sure, Meg. _Sit,_ ” Dean says with a roll of his eyes and a bite to his voice. Cas cuts him a sideways glance, too consumed to even spare him a full glare. Lisa’s hand creeps further up his leg. 

     “What’s up, Clarence?” Meg says, leaning forward on her elbows and cocking her head to Cas. Dean rolls his eyes. 

     “I still don’t understand why you call me that,” Cas says, that dopey smile still on his face. 

     “I see that,” Meg says, turning and tossing the rest of them glances. “Would you like to go get a soda with me?” she asks, turning back to Cas with a smile on her face. Cas nods and stands, walking too close to Meg as they head towards the vending machines. Dean probably isn’t hiding the disgust on his face as well as he’d like to. Lisa’s hand reaches critical point, but Dean is too angry to be annoyed. 

     He doesn’t see Cas that night. Instead, he has sex with Lisa and pretends he doesn’t mind that she isn’t Cas. He doesn’t see Cas the next morning. Instead, he accepts a blow job from Lisa and barely holds back Cas’ name as he comes. It’s lunch when he finally sees Cas again, and lucky for him, Meg is close behind. Cas is smiling. 

     “Dean,” Sam says, leaning close and tapping his shoulder. Dean reluctantly tears his eyes away from the fact that _he’s_ not the one making Cas smile to look around him. Lisa is nowhere to be seen, Jess is holding tight to Sam’s hand, and Sam is looking at him concernedly. 

     “What?” Dean practically hisses. Sam rolls his eyes. 

     “Stop,” he hisses back, cutting his eyes to Cas, and Dean would be embarrassed if Cas weren’t too busy laughing at something completely unfunny Meg said. Dean stands and walks away. So what if he doesn’t like Cas’ new _friend?_ So what if he doesn’t want to sit and watch Cas laugh at everything Meg says. He’s not jealous. He’s _not_ jealous. Dean punches the wall of the boy’s bathroom, reeling his knuckles away bloody. 

     “Dean?” Dean turns on his heels and finds himself staring into eyes of the bluest blue to ever blue. He bites back a groan. “Are you alright?” Cas asks, tilting his head in earnest. 

     “Fuckin’ great, Cas,” Dean retorts, turning away from him and leaning over the bathroom sink. He feels stupid. He feels stupid because some part of him, despite all they said about keeping it purely physical, really believed that someday Cas might have feelings for him. He feels stupid because some part of him, even through all this shit, really believed that they’d end up together. He feels stupid because Cas obviously likes Meg. 

     “I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Cas says, his brow pulled together in confusion. 

     “You like Meg,” Dean spits, turning to Cas. Cas’ eyebrows pull lower. 

     “Yes. She’s very bright and quite funny.” Dean exhales hugely, anything to keep from feeling the knife Cas just jammed into his side. 

     “Awesome,” Dean spits, pushing himself away from the counter. He starts for the door, and would very likely be out and storming down the hall had it not been for Cas’ hand snapped around his wrist. 

     “Do you not approve of Meg?” Cas asks, and Dean rolls his eyes. 

     “Sure, Cas. I think Meg is cherry.” Dean jerks his arm away from Cas but doesn’t leave.

     “Meg is just a friend.”

     ‘Yeah, I’ll bet,” Dean snorts. Cas steps forward, his eyes dark, his lips slightly parted. 

     “Dean Winchester, you are jealous,” Cas says, his voice a growl that shoots straight between Dean’s legs. 

     “Am not,” he mutters, eyes flicking down to Cas’ lips before rising to his eyes. Cas is steadily closing the distance between them, one finger in Dean’s belt loop and the other around the nape of his neck. 

     “I’m about to kiss you,” Cas says, and Dean nods, wrapping an easy arm around Cas’ waist. So Dean’s jealous. He’s still the one making out with Cas right now. Dean runs his tongue along the seam between Cas’ lips, groaning with the moan Cas lets out when their tongues meet. Dean walks them backwards until Cas’ shoulders meet the wall and Dean is able to push against him, his entire front meeting the line of Cas’, and for three days, they stay in that precious limbo, Dean sneaking into Cas’ window at night to fool around and Cas stealing Dean aside in school to get him off. Then day four comes, and it starts with a flyer. 

     “Hey-o brother,” Benny says, jogging to catch up with Dean as they make their way to the next class. Benny has a grin on his face, and a stack of papers in his hand. “Party tonight at my place and you better be there,” he says, slipping one of the papers into Dean’s hands and slapping him on the back. “Hey, Andrea,” he calls, running off to pass out the rest of the fliers. 

     “Hey, Cas," Dean calls, sidling up to Cas and leaning close. "Wanna go to a party tonight?"

     “Sure,” Cas says eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips.

     “Hey, Clarence,” a new voice says, and puts a hand against Dean’s chest, effectively pushing her way between the two of them. Dean has half a mind to rip her from the conversation by the roots of her hair, but instead, he rolls his eyes and steps away from Megstiel. 

     “I’ll see you tonight, Cas,” Dean says and steps away. He drives Sam home that day and sits to play video games with him for a while before showering and heading out for Benny’s. The minute he walks in, someone hands him a beer, and he downs it. “Yo, Benny,” he calls over the pulsing music, but Benny does not appear. “You seen Benny?” he asks a random, and they point to the kitchen. Dean finds Benny pulling Jell-O shots from the fridge, humming along to the beating bass with the smell of alcohol already staining his breath. 

     “Dean!” Benny shouts when he catches sight of him. “You are my _best_ friend. Come here!” Benny reels Dean in with a sloppy kiss on his cheek and an easy arm thrown around his shoulders.

     “Wow, you’re really wasted,” Dean comments, wiping Benny’s spit from his cheek, grinning when Benny begins to laugh.

     “Am I?” he asks, whining softly when Dean takes the Jell-O shots from him before they end up on the floor and sets them on the counter

     “Yeah, buddy. You are. Have you seen Cas?” 

     “Cas? No! You guys are the best. You are like," Benny pauses, bringing his hands around front to stare at them. He concentrates on them for a while before smashing them together, lacing his fingers and wiggling them. He continues excitedly. "The _best_ bestest friends. I love you guys!” Dean rolls his eyes and takes a Jell-O shot before leaving Benny alone in the kitchen to tell someone else how much he loves them. Dean searches the house from top to bottom, pushing his way through the people and the pulsing crowds until he finally spots Cas alone by the door looking for all the world like he doesn’t want to be here. 

     “Cas,” he shouts, pushing through the people until he is standing directly in front of Cas, that dopey grin still on his face. Cas smiles at Dean, stubbly cheeks almost swallowing his eyes. “Do you want a drink?” Dean asks, leaning close so Cas can hear him over the music. He smells like cologne and strawberry shampoo. 

     “Yeah,” Cas agrees, following Dean through the crowds back into the kitchen. Benny is still in there, but now he’s got a dark-skinned, dark-haired girl pressed flush against the wall with wildly searching hands.

     “Beer?” Dean asks, turning to Cas with a small smile. _He looks hot tonight,_ Dean thinks idly, taking in the sharp contrast of his blue eyes to the deep, rich purple of his shirt Dean is so caught up in the disarray of Cas’ hair that he misses his response. “What?” he asks, hoping he can blame his slip on the music, though it is considerably quieter in the kitchen than the living room. 

     “I said whatever you’re drinking,” Cas says, stepping closer to make his voice heard. Dean fills Cas a cup from the keg and leads him back to the main room, ignoring the sloppy sounds Benny is making on the girl he’s groping. “Great party,” Cas comments when they make it back to the main room. People are dancing everywhere, cups held high and lights turned low. 

     “Yeah. Kinda crowded though,” Dean says, swaying gently into Cas’ shoulder. Dean leans closer to Cas so that his lips brush Cas’ ear when he speaks. “I bet we could find a place a bit more private.” Cas turns minutely, catching eyes with Dean before heading for the stairs without another word. Dean has to stop himself from reaching out and smacking Cas’ ass as he makes his way up the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut shall ensue again!

     They do indeed find a place that’s more private. Granted, it’s Benny’s bedroom, which, thanks to Benny’s recent streak of acting out, has had the lock removed. Dean will thank him later for letting them borrow his room and then bitch at him a little for being a rebellious shit and getting his lock taken away. 

     They barely get the door shut before Dean is slipping his shirt over his head and reeling Cas to him, lips parted and seeking. It doesn’t take long for Dean to get Cas’ shirt matching his, that being elsewhere; however, he does take a moment to strip Cas of his shoes, open the door, and slip a sock over the handle, because _fuck yeah, this room is occupied._ When the door shuts back, Dean is once again on Cas, pushing their bodies together and swallowing the moans Cas lets out. 

     Dean walks them backward towards the bed until Cas is sitting down and Dean's leaning over him. Cas doesn’t break the kiss as he leans back, pulling Dean until he’s hovering over him, arms bracketing Cas' body. Dean runs his hands along Cas’ sides, taking a moment to pull away from his mouth and suck at his pulse point, lick into the hollow of his throat, nip along his shoulder, before pushing his lips back against Cas’.

     “Dean,” Cas moans, one hand unraveling from Dean’s hair to fly down to his ass, bringing their hips grinding together against the delicious friction. “Dean, I want you so fucking bad,” Cas whimpers, bringing his hips up to meet the push of Dean’s. 

     Dean is ready for this. He really is. They’ve been fooling around for over a month now, and it’s gotten to the point where he can't even have sex with his girlfriend without Cas popping into his head. He can't even jerk himself off without wishing that Cas were there, and it shocks him to realize he wants Cas _inside_ him. 

     “Cas, I want you to fuck me,” Dean says into Cas’ mouth, nudging Cas’ knees apart with one of his own and pressing hard against the bulge he finds there. Cas groans, be it from the word or the knee. 

     “I-I would love nothing—ah!—nothing more than to fuck you,” he bites out, panting as Dean sucks hickey after hickey into his neck. 

     “Then what’s stopping you?" Dean growls, pushing against Cas’ straining dick once again, his own reaching a crisis point. He removes one of his hands from Cas’ chaotic hair to sit back, unzip, and take it in hand. Cas’ lips part hungrily at the sight of Dean’s swollen and leaking cock, even going so far as to lick his lips before he speaks, his eyes still on Dean’s penis. 

     “You…bottoming…I don’t want to hurt you, Dean,” Cas chokes out finally, his eyes flicking away from Dean’s dick to look at his face. Dean is ready to resist. He is ready to assure Cas that he could never hurt him, but something in Cas’ eyes tells Dean that this is about more than just that. He gets the feeling that there is something else, something important, so Dean swallows down his pride and kisses Cas softly. 

     “Whatever you want,” Dean allows, falling onto his side next to Castiel instead straddling over him. Dean stops the slow pull on his dick to wrap an easy arm around Cas’ middle and pull him close. 

     “I want to give you the best blow job of your life,” Cas says, leaning forward and kissing Dean sloppily until he is laying on his back, Cas’ tongue leaving hot trails across all the good places between his mouth and his dick. 

     “I would not be opposed to that,” Dean chokes out, folding his arms behind his head to keep from wrapping his fingers into Cas’ hair and fucking up into his mouth. He takes in a deep, calming breath before Cas’ lips are around Dean’s dick, sucking relentlessly with little laps again and again against his head. Dean groans, bringing a hand over to cover his eyes. Cas hums contentedly around Dean’s prick, his hand working in perfect time at the base, occasionally slipping lower to fondle his balls. Cas never touches his hole though, and Dean cannot honestly say that he isn’t disappointed about that fact. “Holy fuck, Cas,” he groans, finally giving up and slapping a hand into Cas’ hair. 

     Dean knows that he’s moaning, groaning senseless encouragements around Cas’ soft whimpers. He knows that everyone knows he’s getting some damn good action in here, but he doesn’t know that not _everyone_ knows the sock on the doorknob means do not disturb. 

     "Whoa!” a new voice says, sending the two scrambling away from each other, ten shades of red coloring their faces. They had been so…well, _immersed_ that they hadn’t heard the door open. 

     “Garth,” Dean stammers, slamming a pillow down over his bare crotch.

     “I _so_ wish I hadn’t seen that,” Garth slurs, bringing a hand to his face as though that could wipe the image from his memory.

     “You and me both,” Dean grumbles around his slight panic. 

     “Yeah, no, sure, definitely. I don’t want to talk about it. Ever. I mean, I’m completely supportive of this relationship because it’s been forever in the making, and everyone knows you kinda love each other, but lock a door! Balls!” he says and leaves the bedroom, holding a hand over his eyes and bumping into the frame on his way out. 

     “Holy shit,” Dean mutters when he’s gone. “Getting caught is not as hot as I was expecting.”

     “Do you think he saw?” Cas asks worriedly, wiping absently at his swollen lips as though he had come on them. Which he did not. Because _Dean_ had not. Which Dean is painfully aware of. 

     “I don’t know, Cas.”

     “Do you think he’ll tell anyone? Dean, my mom _cannot_ find out about us.” Cas’ eyes are sparkling, and it takes Dean a moment to realize that tears of panic are filling them. 

     “No, Cas. He said he didn’t want to talk about it,” Dean assures, leaning forward and putting a kiss against Cas’ shoulder. 

     “He looked very drunk. Maybe you should talk to him,” Cas suggests, panic practically radiating off of him.

     “We can’t finish?” Dean asks, only half-kidding as he raises his hand to cup Cas’ cheek, earning himself a blue-eyed glare. Dean grins and moves to put his pants on. “I’ll talk to him,” Dean assures, leaning back down to kiss Cas. 

     “Thank you,” Cas whispers, looking up to Dean with watery eyes. 

     “Anything for you,” Dean murmurs, but he’s pretty sure Cas doesn’t hear him. It's probably for the best. “Yo, Garth,” Dean calls after he gets dressed and leaves the room, catching sight of the scrawny boy walking very quickly down the stairs. “Garth, hold up.” Garth pauses, mid-step and turns to look at Dean. 

     “Hey! Dean!” Garth calls, face lighting up as though he hadn't just seen Dean getting his brains sucked out. 

     “Garth, I need to talk to you.” Dean claps a hand on Garth’s shoulder to keep him in place. Garth’s eyes widen.

     “Is this about what happened in there?” Garth asks with a conspiratorial grin, bringing a hand up to mime a blowjob, one that Dean promptly pulls down and makes him decide that Garth is absolutely hammered. The guy probably only had one beer. Dean sighs. 

     “Yes, listen. Cas and I…it was just…Garth, listen, you can’t tell anyone. My dad…Cas’ mom…it..." Dean doesn’t even know what to say. 

     “Nooo,” Garth interrupts, waving a big, dramatic hand before Dean can find his words amidst his big gay-panic. “You guys are the best. I’m not going to tell anyone.” Garth hiccups. 

     “Seriously, Garth. Don’t tell _anyone_.” 

     “I’m nooot.” Dean sighs. He figures this is about as good as it’s going get.

     “Thanks, Garth,” Dean says, clapping his shoulder again before turning and heading back to the room where Cas is. When he gets the door open, he finds Cas sitting in the middle of the bed, his shirt back on and his hair in a state of disarray. Dean closes the door behind him, taking long strides to sit before Cas. “He’s not going to be telling anyone,” Dean assures, leaning close and dipping his head so he can kiss Cas. Cas is hesitant at first, but the minute Dean slides his tongue along Cas’ bottom lip, Cas is ready to accept him again. Dean brings his hand up to knot in Cas’ hair, sucking his bottom lip between his own. Ten minutes could not have passed before a new and violent interruption presents itself.

     “ _Dean Winchester!_ ” A voice screeches, accompanied by thunderous footsteps and many slamming doors. “Get out here, you son of a bitch!” Dean pulls away from Cas, turning concernedly to the door. 

     “Is that… _Lisa_?” Cas asks, his thumb absently stroking Dean’s jaw. 

     “Oh, _shit_ ,” Dean groans, rolling away from Cas and jogging to the door. When Dean pulls the door open enough to poke his head out, he sees Lisa banging away at the door next to them, anger set into her shoulders. “Lisa,” he says, stepping out and taking her wrist in his hand to stop the banging. 

     “You son of a bitch! You’re fucking around with Ca—” she starts before Dean slaps a hand over her mouth. 

     “Lisa, please,” he says, stepping close so that the heads she has turned with her spectacle cannot hear. “Don’t make a scene.” 

     “Yysshmks,” Lisa spits, so Dean removes his hand. She wipes angrily at her lips, smearing what was left of her lipstick. “You asshole! I _asked_ you if there was anything going on. You _lied_ to me!" 

     “Can we talk about this?” Dean asks quietly, glancing around to the faces still blatantly watching them. “Privately,” he says pointedly, putting a hand on Lisa’s back, one that she promptly slaps away but moves for the stairs anyways. Dean follows, throwing a mournful glance at the door Cas has the good sense to keep firmly shut between them. When they make it outside, Lisa decides that they have gone far enough and turns to Dean with fury in her eyes, demanding an explanation. "How did you find out?” Dean asks quietly after a long moment of surveying the groups of people around him. Everyone outside is too wasted to care what Lisa and Dean are arguing about. 

     “Garth told me,” Lisa spits, and Dean fights the urge to roll his eyes.

     “Of course he did,” Dean mutters sarcastically, earning himself an attack of slaps against his chest.

     “Of course he did, you asshole!” she shouts between slaps. “He’s my cousin! Did you expect him not to? What the fuck is the matter with you?” Dean catches her wrists, but once again she jerks away. “You’re fucking Cas,” she spits venomously. 

     “Technically, we’ve just been fooling around. We haven’t fucked yet.” Dean shrugs, as though that or his words would make the situation better. All anger drains from Lisa’s face.

     “Oh. You’re just fooling around? Well, that makes it better.” The anger pushes itself through her sarcasm in a rush. “What the _hell_ is your problem?” she shrieks, stomping her foot prissily. 

     “Lisa, look, I like Cas. A lot,” Dean says with a shrug, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. 

     “What are you? Fucking gay?” she spits, and Dean visibly recoils. 

     “No, smartass. I’m bisexual,” Dean counters, watching as everything drops off Lisa’s face. Her arms come up to cross over her chest.

     “We need to break up,” she says flatly, staring up at Dean with her hip jutted out and contempt in her eyes. 

     “ _What_?” Dean asks, entirely dumbfounded because he’s sure as hell that he didn’t hear her right. “ _Why?_ It’s not like you haven’t been fooling around too! You have Roy, and I have Cas.” 

     “That’s not what this is about. We’ve never been mutually exclusive, but I can’t date a gay guy,” she says, sticking her nose up in the air and turning away from Dean. 

     “I’m not _gay_. I’m bi,” Dean repeats with a snarl, anger unfurling from his gut with her every step away from him until he can't take it anymore. “You’re a real _bitch,_ you know that? You spend _months_ cheating on me with Roy and Michael and Adam, and it’s the fact that I kiss _one_ guy that puts you off? How many guys have you kissed this month alone?” Lisa turns around and reels backward, planting a foot behind her and stretching her eyes wide. “My sexuality doesn’t change who I am, Lisa, and if you can’t accept that, then I don’t want to be with you either. Homophobes aren’t really my style.” Dean stares at Lisa a moment longer before turning and heading back for Cas. 

     “Dean, wait,” she calls, and if it weren’t for the hand on his shoulder, he probably would have kept walking. He turns back to her with his decision set into his shoulders. “You’re right," she says softly. She even has the good grace to look ashamed. "I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter if you like guys too.” She steps closer, bringing a hand up and cupping Dean’s cheek. Dean clenches his jaw against the brush of her fingers over his stubble. “I still want you. I still want to be with you.” Dean stares at her for a long while. He takes in her long, dark hair, her big, brown eyes, her full, pink lips. He thinks of having sex with her, of her perfect breasts and her wonderful pussy. He'll never have that again if he walks away from her tonight...

     “No,” Dean says, taking her hand off his face and stepping back because really, it's a no-brainer. Ask him Lisa or Cas, and it'll be Cas every single time.

     “ _No_ ,” Lisa repeats, leaning forward and catching Dean’s eyes. “Why not?” 

     “Because I want to be with him,” he says, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He wants to _be_ with Cas. He wants more than the sex and more than the friendship. He wants Cas in his laughter and Cas in his joy and Cas in his grumpy mornings and his lazy afternoons and his sleepless nights. He wants Cas, and he wants Cas to want him back. 

     “You’re choosing _Castiel_ over _me_?” she asks, her eyes set wide.

     “Hell yeah,” Dean says and starts to walk away.

     “No!” she shrieks, but Dean keeps walking. “You can’t do that! I’ll tell everyone!” As soon as the words leave her lips, Dean stills, his spine rigid, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. He spins slowly to face her. 

     “If you tell a soul, I will _ruin_ you,” Dean snarls. “Castiel has the world waiting for him, and you will not ruin that for him. Do you understand?” Lisa’s eyes are wide, horrified, and Dean walks away. He doesn’t think she has it in her to tell. She cared about Cas once upon a time too. “Come on, Cas,” Dean says when he finds him just inside the door. “We’re leaving. Thanks for the party, Benny,” Dean calls, saluting the drunken Benny who is now clinging to the dark-haired girl’s waist. Dean just catches Benny waving back before he and Cas have made it through the door and into the Impala. Cas is silent for a long while, chewing on his knuckles and watching the miles pass by.

     “What happened?” Cas asks finally, his eyes still on the outside. 

     “With Lisa?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas before throwing his head back with a short laugh that is built on bravado and worriment. “Ah, that’s over. Garth let it slip about us making out. She said she didn’t want a bisexual boyfriend...never even mentioned the fact that I was cheating on her.” They laugh together, and Dean swallows back the fact that _he_ broke up with Lisa for _Cas._ He’s not ready to tell him yet. “You wanna go to my house? Or…?” 

     “Actually, I’m kind of tired. Rain check on that blowjob?” he asks, glancing over to Dean with a half-formed smile. 

     “There’d better be a rain check,” Dean says with a wink, reaching out and taking the hand Cas has resting on his thigh. He feels Cas tense beside him, and of all the things that they’ve done, he feels this is the one that has crossed the line. In their ‘purely physical’ relationship, every action thus far has been with the obvious endgame of getting off. Lacing fingers with Cas is something Dean is doing just because he wants to feel Cas, just because he wants to hold him, and according to the hard swallow Cas gives, he knows it. Dean almost lets go just because of that, but despite the fact that he isn’t looking at Dean, Cas is holding tight. 

     When the road beneath Baby's wheels turns to Cas’ driveway, they finally detach. Dean wants nothing more than to lean over and kiss Cas goodnight, but there’s always the chance that Ms. Milton is watching and waiting for Cas to slip up. Cas offers Dean a smile before moving to get out of Dean’s car. 

     “Hey, wait,” Dean says, stopping Cas with his hand on the door. Dean scoots closer to Cas and takes his hand again. Cas looks down to their joined hands, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Dean doesn’t pull Cas’ hand to his lips, instead he bends down and plants a kiss against his knuckles. “I’ll see you later, okay?” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ fingers before pulling away and turning back frontwards. Dean, from the corner of his eye, sees Cas hesitate and then leave, never once looking back. 

     “Sammy,” Dean calls when he makes it back to his own home, throwing his keys onto the table and pulling open the fridge in search of something to eat. No response comes from his little brother, so Dean spares the microwave a glance to check the time, finding it only 11:20. Sam’s usually not asleep yet. Dean swallows a gulp of milk from the carton and closes the fridge. He walks down the hall to find Sam’s door cracked enough that Dean can see the little twerp sleeping peacefully, legs sprawled out and covers barely holding on through Sam’s tornado-like slumber. Dean smiles fondly before taking a running start and leaping on top of him. 

     “Ungh,” Sam grunts, flailing wildly through Dean’s giggles. Dean gets an arm around Sam’s shoulders, trapping his head against his bicep and rubbing his knuckles into his hair.

     “Wake up, you little snot!” Dean calls, still giggling wildly. 

     “Dean,” Sam whines, slapping at his brother and wriggling until he’s free. Dean grins and leans back against the wall through Sam’s bitchface. 

     “So, Sammy,” Dean starts, wrapping an arm behind his head. “You wanna watch a movie or something?” 

     “No,” Sam growls. “I want to sleep.”

     “Awe, Samantha needs her beauty rest?” Dean croons, reaching out and ruffling Sam’s disarrayed hair. Sam slaps him away. 

     “I have class in the morning,” Sam says, still looking at Dean with disgust. 

     “Tomorrow is Saturday,” Dean laughs, kicking Sam lightly. 

     “You don’t know that,” Sam grumbles. Dean rolls his eyes. 

     “Come on, Sam. I’m bored.”

     “So go bother someone else, you asshole.”

     “Whatever, bitch,” Dean says, getting up and pushing Sam on his way out. 

     “Jerk,” Sam calls, bringing a smile to Dean’s lips. When Dean makes it to bed, he lays there for hours. He’d be lying if he said he was thinking of anything other than Cas. Dean was right though, Saturday morning breaks around them with rays of sun struggling to cut through the thick clouds. Dean has slept in intervals of twenty minutes at a time, each time snapping himself awake with sharp blue eyes on his mind. He’s spent the time he isn’t dreaming of Cas, thinking of Cas, and feeling pussy as fuck for it. It doesn’t matter though. None of it matters. All that matters is that he can’t, for the life of him, stop thinking that he wants Cas for real, and eventually, he has had enough. 

     Dean finds himself slogging through the cold of the mist and stopping at Cas’ front door. His knuckles rap against the wood for nine full seconds before it is being flung open and Dean is staring into the cold and irritated eyes of Ms. Milton. 

     “Hi, Ms. Milton. Is Cas awake?” Dean asks, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and leaning around the woman to look inside. 

     “Yes," she replies shortly, clearly irritated as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

     "Well, um, could I speak to him?" Dean asks, and she moves aside with an irritated sigh. Dean steps around her and heads straight for Cas’ room. Cas is laying half-naked in bed, the blankets pulled up to his waist and his eyes glued on the TV. 

     “ _Cartoons_ ,” Dean snorts in playful contempt, following Cas' eyes to the colorful animations on the screen. Cas glances up to Dean and smiles. 

     “Cartoons are hilarious,” Cas says defensively as he sits up, the covers pooling around his hips. Dean finds his eyes drawn there. 

     “Get your ass outta bed,” Dean says after a moment, not bothering to shield his gaze as Cas stretches, his lean muscles pulling and tightening. Cas groans as he pushes himself out of bed before pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that Dean’s almost sure belonged to him once upon a time. 

     “What are you looking at?” Cas spits, a grin hiding in his eyes. 

     “Nothing much, princess," Dean tosses with a wink, cherishing the eyeroll Cas sends his way. "So...I really need to talk to you," Dean starts, gathering his courage. Then he chickens out. "But first, I’m gonna need you to brush your teeth.” Dean grins at Cas. Cas rolls his eyes again and pushes past him to get to his toothbrush. “I’ll be in the living room!” Dean calls, to which Cas throws up a hand, not bothering to turn around. Dean watches Cas’ ass shamelessly as he walks away, bringing a hand to his chest and rolling away with a small groan. _I’m so fucking gone on him,_ he thinks, making his way to the living room and slumping into the armchair.

     “Hey, Winchester,” Anna says, walking through and pushing his head slightly, a grin in her voice.

     “Yo, Milton,” Dean calls, turning slightly to look at her, catching only a trail of red hair tied back into a ponytail. 

     “You here to steal my brother?” she asks, returning to the living room with a handful of candy.

     “Well, I’m not here to steal you,” he mutters, turning back to the TV and ignoring the M&M Anna throws at his head. 

     “What’s this about stealing me?” Cas asks, entering the living room and plopping down on the couch next to Anna. 

     “I thought we’d hang out, if you wanted. Make use of that rain check,” he says, tossing Cas a wink. Anna rolls her eyes. 

     “You two are disgusting,” she mutters, standing and leaving the pair alone in the living room, the sounds of the TV being the only other distraction. Ms. Milton is banging around in the kitchen, Anna has disappeared to God knows where, and Cas is leaning forward in his seat, eyes locked on Dean’s. 

     “We’ll definitely cash in that rain check," Cas says, his eyes sparkling darkly. "But first, you said something about talking?” Dean swallows hard and nods. 

     “Wanna go to the old tree house?” Dean asks, pushing himself off the chair and offering a hand to Cas. Cas groans, falling back but putting his hand up for Dean to grab. Dean rolls his eyes and pulls Cas up, lingering his hand against Cas’ before letting it go and heading for the door with Cas on his heels. He pulls in a deep breath, setting his shoulders against the cold and torment before pulling it open. They walk in silence. 

     “Dean, are you ever gonna talk?” Cas asks finally, swaying his shoulder into Dean's as they break through the line of trees around the creek and their treehouse. 

     “Yes,” Dean says, stepping forward and beginning to climb. When he gets to the top, he turns to help pull Cas through before scooting to the edge and looking out over the creek. “Do you remember that time when we were…I don’t know, nine? Anyways, we had been playing like you were God, but _you_ kept changing the rules and teaming up with that punk Crowley.” Dean laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, I was so mad at you.” Cas laughs too, his shoulders shaking. 

     “You wouldn’t talk to me for days. I finally had to fill myself with 'monsters' and banish myself to ‘purgatory’ to get you to forgive me.”

     “Yeah, which was like ten bags of gummy worms and the woods! You had the worst stomach ache _and_ you got lost. Me and Benny had to come in here and save your sorry ass!” Dean’s laughs mingle with Cas’, and the next thing Dean knows, Cas’ laughing face is pressing into his shoulder. The laughter drains slowly from Dean as the warmth fills his chest. “I’d do it again,” Dean says, turning to look at Cas. Cas turns his head, cheek still resting on Dean’s shoulder to look at him. Dean’s eyes flick down to Cas’ lips, and so what if he can’t help but lean forward and kiss him. Cas pulls away softly, licking his lips and moving closer, his head still pressed against Dean’s shoulder. Dean flips his hand palm side up, and Cas slips his fingers through Dean’s. 

     “Did you drag me out here to tell me stories about us as kids?” Cas asks, gripping Dean’s fingers and voice barely there. 

     “No,” Dean admits, laying his head against Cas’. The feeling from last night races through his veins, the feeling that what they’re doing is riding awfully close to the line separating “purely physical” and “full of feelings and shit.”

     “Do you want to tell me?” Cas asks, his voice barely a whisper. Something tells Dean that Cas is not quite ready to hear it just as much as Dean’s not quite ready to say it. 

     “Not just yet,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ fingers and staring out towards the lazily moving creek. They sit there hand in hand for a long while, sit there in their thoughts and silence until Cas’ stomach grumbles loudly, bringing a small laugh out of both of them. “Come on, you nerd. Let’s go get some food,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ fingers before detaching and starting for the ladder. Cas follows close behind him, and by the time they have broken through the trees again, Dean has decided that he’s _ready._ He’s Dean fucking Winchester. He’s ready. 

     “Okay,” Dean says, swaying gently into Cas’ shoulder to get his attention. “So, we’ve been best friends for what, twelve years? Thirteen?” Cas nods, swaying back into Dean. “And they’ve been great,” Dean continues as their houses come into view. “And recently, we’ve started making out and giving each other killer blow jobs and just being generally sexy.” Cas laughs. 

     “We _are_ pretty sexy,” he agrees, rolling his eyes. 

     “Yes!” Dean says excitedly, raising a hand to his hair and brushing it down. He’s nervous. He’s really fucking nervous, but he breathes through it because it’s just Cas, Cas who taught Dean how to build a kite, Cas who Dean taught how to whistle, Cas who taught Dean that home is a baby brother and a best friend. “We are sexy, and we are best friends, and it’s awesome. _You’re_ awesome, and you’re my best friend.” 

     “You said that already,” Cas reminds with a grin. 

     “Shut up, would you?” Dean grumbles with no real malice. “You’re messing up my speech.”

     “It sounds like rambling to me.”

     “Would you like to tell it?” 

     “Proceed.” Dean rolls his eyes. 

     “Cas, I really want this, _us_ , to—”

     “Clarence,” a voice drawls from behind. Dean turns to see Meg walking towards them, horrid looking in tight leather jeans and a low cut top. _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,_ Dean thinks viciously, glaring daggers at the intruder. "Just the man I was looking for.” Meg steps even closer to Cas, edging Dean back with her shoulder. “Whaddya say, you and me order a pizza and move some furniture around?” She winks at Cas, chuckling at the blush she pulls from him 

     “Excuse me?” Cas stammers, turning to Dean with a terrified look in his eyes. 

     “Come on, Cas. I really like you. Let’s go out,” she says, grinning up to Cas, swallowing his ferocious blush like it’s food and she’s a starving animal. 

     “Um,” Cas says, looking to Dean for guidance, but he is too shocked to respond. “Yeah. Okay,” Cas stammers finally, turning away from Dean to look at Meg. 

     “Great,” Meg drawls, stepping closer and wrapping an easy arm around Cas’ waist. Dean watches his downfall without emotion on his face. He watches Meg sidle closer and closer to Cas, and he watches Cas grin back at her before Dean decides he’s had enough and walks away. If he weren’t so busy deciding that he never had a shot with Cas anyway, he might applaud Meg on her form. If he’d just said what he was trying to ten seconds sooner, then maybe Cas would be _his_ boyfriend instead of hers, his _boyfriend_ instead of his fuck buddy/best friend. Dean glances back at Cas, but he is gone, left as though Dean was never there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for making Lisa into a bitch here. I always liked her in canon, but _someone_ had to kick Dean's repressed ass out of denial. Figured it might as well be me and her.


	7. Chapter 7

     For the rest of the weekend, Dean sees nothing more of Cas than passing glimpses through his window as Meg whisks Cas away to some bar or some party or some something that he would not be doing if it weren't for the bitch. Then school comes, and Meg insists that Cas sit with her and her band of she-demon friends. Granted, he looks longingly back at Dean through out the lunch period, but Dean works hard to ignore it. One of Meg's bitches—Dean thinks her name is Ruby—keeps screwing with Sam right there in front of Jess, and it is plenty to keep Dean's mind off Cas. Dean puts his head in his arms to keep from killing her. 

     “Dean, will you please just talk to him?” Sam asks, leaning around Jess to look at Dean. Dean snaps his head up, a glare already set in place. 

     “Well, isn’t that just the most ingenious, cutting-edge idea that I’ve ever heard!” Dean barks with false excitement. 

     “Don’t be a dick, Dean. I’m just trying to help,” Sam counters, his bitchface on overdrive.

     “Yeah, well, I _tried_ talking to him. Then just as I was about to tell Cas that I’ve completely fucked up our ‘no feelings involved’ agreement, Meg swoops in and says, ‘Hey Cas, let’s rearrange some furniture.’” Dean sighs and puts his head back into his arms. 

     “Ew, she said that?” Sam asks, looking to Jess and laughing. 

     “Shut up, Sam,” Dean grumbles, wriggling lower in his seat. He sits there for the whole of the lunch period before pulling himself up and heading to math. 

     To top off his considerably shitty day, he fails a test that he actually studied for, and with a very small amount of debate, he elects to ditch class and go the fuck home. When he gets there, he elects to ignore his dad’s drunken ramblings and instead, to sit and to play Mario Kart until it’s time to pick Sam up. Sam, of course, is bouncing when he gets in the car, going on and on about a test he aced, and Dean sinks lower into his funk. He decides then that the only thing he needs is the solitude of the treehouse that Dean and he-who-shall-not-be-named built. 

     The trail to the tree house is as familiar as ever, a huge rock tossed to the side, a pesky root sticking up from the ground, the grass worn to death. Dean could walk this path with his eyes closed, and he just might if every time he closed his eyes, he didn’t see Cas running with a cape tied to his neck, Cas laughing with a fishing pole in hand. Cas...Cas everywhere. Instead, he keeps his eyes open and watches the trees crawl by until he spots that rickety little house behind the branches. 

     He exhales softly as he begins his climb, the tension already beginning to ease out of his shoulders. Just as he tops the ladder, Dean notices immediately that something is wrong. Fabric is strewn all over the place, and moans are filling the air. Oblivious, Dean turns his head only to find Cas stretched out beneath Meg, his hands gripped high and tight in her hair. 

     “Holy _fuck,_ ” Dean blurts, and Meg jumps, as if the little pervs hadn’t heard Dean climbing the ladder and left it all out on display anyway. 

     “Dean,” Cas shrieks, pushing Meg off him and fumbling for his pants, as though Dean hasn’t seen it all before. Dean, however, Dean is already scrambling down the ladder, jumping at the highest rung he can get away with and all but sprinting towards the house. “Dean, please wait,” Cas calls. Dean can hear him clambering his way down the ladder before jumping away and running after Dean. Cas eventually catches up with him, flinging a hand around Dean's arm to turn him around. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her up there. That’s our place.” 

     “Damn right, you shouldn’t have,” Dean spits, anger unfurling in his gut. 

     “Yes…that’s what I just said.” Cas murmurs and not without sorrow, mind you, but after a long moment of looking at Dean, Cas’ brow furrows together. “Dean, what’s the matter?” 

     “You brought a whore into our tree house!” Dean shouts, throwing his hand towards her. 

     “I can hear you,” comes a voice from the tree house. 

     “Fuck off, Meg,” Dean screams, bouncing towards her on the balls of his feet. 

     “ _Dean,_ ” Cas hisses, putting his hands on Dean's chest and pushing him firmly down from his bowed up stance. “Don’t talk to her like that."

     “What are you even talking about? She’s a _demon,_ Cas.”

     “Why are you being so hateful? She’s never done anything to you!” Cas' voice grows so angry that it begins to shake. 

     “You don’t even like girls!” Dean hisses quietly, tossing hand up towards Meg, never forgetting that she can in fact hear them. 

     “She’s _nice_ ,” Cas defends, eyes narrowed at Dean. “What does it matter, anyway?" Cas asks, crossing his arms defensively. Dean clenches his jaw, refusing to answer. This will _not_ be the way he tells Cas, Dean furious and Cas reeking like prostitution. Dean refuses, and Cas gets even more pissed off. "You know what, Dean," Cas says finally, his voice angry but controlled. "I don’t want to be around you right now.”

     “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

     “What is that supposed to mean?” They are gravitating towards one another. They are always gravitating. 

     “It means you’ve been so stuck up _her_ ass that you haven’t seen your best friend in days.” 

     “She’s my girlfriend, Dean. Of course I’m going to spend time with her. You were _always_ stuck up Lisa’s ass when you were together. How can you be mad at me for wanting to see Meg?”

     “Do you see Lisa? Have you seen me ditching you for her?” 

     “Is _that_ what this is, Dean?” Cas’ voice raises a decibel. “You think _I’m_ ditching _you_?” 

     “Yes! I-” but then Dean is dragging Cas in by the bare of his shoulders and kissing him, open-mouthed and desperate and needy. Cas kisses him back fiercely, his hands wild and frantic, his tongue demanding, but then everything is gone as Cas shoves him away roughly, eyes shining. 

     “No, damn it!” Cas spits, eyes blazing and shiny. “You can't just do that!" Cas shouts, hands flying rapidly around his head as he screams. "You can't just make me all angry, and then kiss me like that will make it okay. You can’t! It doesn’t make it better, Dean!” Cas takes a breath, his chest heaving, his hands shaking. “I _know_ you, Dean. This isn’t about bringing Meg into the tree house, but you won't _talk_ to me so I can find out what the fuck's wrong! So when you’re ready to tell me about what your problem _really_ is, I’ll be here—like I’ve _always_ been. Until then, just stay the hell away from me because I can’t deal with your bullshit today.” Cas turns away and leaves Dean to stare after him because Cas is right, and they both know it. It’s not about Meg and the treehouse. It’s about seeing how _much_ he needs _Cas_ and how _little_ Cas needs _him_. Dean walks home with anger barely pushing down the hurt slicing through his veins.

     Dean spends the rest of the week sulking. He watches Cas when he swears he isn’t. He thinks about Cas when he wishes he weren’t. He pouts. He grumbles. He watches _Game of Thrones_ alone—though Cas does text him before the premier asking if he wants to watch together, and Dean, because he's a sulking bitch, ignores him. He gets on everyone’s nerves, and by the end of the week, he is ready to go crawling back to Cas. So he goes to Cas' house and knocks on the window, all to no answer, and not because Cas is mad at him. No, there is silence because Cas is gone, but Dean knows exactly where he is. Dean goes to the treehouse, and sure enough, the lights up top are ablaze.

     Dean climbs the ladder slowly, knocking on the floor before he pops in. Cas is sitting in the beanbag chair, a book propped open on his knee. He glances up when Dean crawls in, but his eyes go straight back down to his book. 

     “Hey, Cas,” Dean murmurs, sitting in the hole with his legs dangling below. Cas doesn’t respond. “I want to apologize.”

     “Great. Sit down. You can write me an essay about how sorry you are.” Cas never looks up from his books. 

     “Come on, Cas,” Dean says, pushing himself up and crossing the small house to Cas. He kneels before him, laying his hands against Cas’ knees. Cas’ eyes stay down, so Dean reaches out and lifts Cas’ chin. Their eyes meet, and it is the fire and ice their relationship has always been. “It wasn’t about Meg,” Dean admits quietly, and Cas nods, his chin still in Dean’s palm.

     “I know. I just can’t figure out what it was.” 

     “Well, it sort of was her. She’s terrible, Cas. I hate her.” He was trying for humor, but there’s too much truth in it to ring playful. Dean drops his hand and stands, turning his back to Cas and facing the stream below them. When Cas speaks, his voice is angry again. 

     “I’m getting _really_ tired of you talking about her like that,” Cas growls, tossing his book aside and standing. “If this isn’t about her, leave her out of it.”

     “Of course it’s about her, Cas!” Dean explodes, and from there, Dean knows he’s a goner. “She came in here and said what I couldn’t and you’re so damn happy and _I_ wanted that! I wanted _you_! I wanted you to stay!”

     “Well then why are you mad at _me_?! I didn’t know you wanted me to stay! You said it was just supposed to be fun! No strings attached and purely physical. I thought it was all I was going to get, so of _course_ I turned to someone else, someone who _wanted_ to be with me!” Dean turns, eyes blown wide as he takes in Cas’ anger. 

     “Are you kidding?! How could you be so goddamned blind? Honestly!” Dean puts a hand to his head and wipes angrily down his face. “I came out to Sam for you! I broke up with Lisa for you! How could you think I didn’t want to be with you?” 

     “I’m not like you, Dean! People don’t just, just _fall all over themselves_ wanting to be with me! I’ve never had anyone want me! How the fuck was I supposed to know the difference?”

     “You should have known! I gave everything for you!” Dean is staring at the creek, hands on his hips and back to Cas. He takes a moment to breathe, to push down the tears. The anger is gone from his voice when he continues. “I’d give anything for you…We said it would be purely physical, and I messed it up, Cas. I fucked it up like I fuck everything up.” Dean shoves his hands deep in his pocket. “And I…It’s just…we started this thing, and it was great. It was getting to have you in all the ways I’ve ever wanted. I was getting to hold you and kiss you and it was great, but it was never supposed to be more than sex…and I fucked it up.” Dean hears Cas before he feels him, but soon enough, those long, lean arms are roping around Dean’s middle and that face is pressing between his shoulder blades. 

     “You really fucked it up,” Cas murmurs, and Dean feels a million pounds lift off his chest. He knows he’s forgiven. He pushes out a broken laugh. He drops his arms from his hips, fingers winding between Cas’. 

     “I fucked it up," Dean agrees, squeezing Cas' fingers before continuing, "But I want this, Cas. I want _you_. I want more than just us fooling around.” Cas moves his face from between Dean’s shoulder blades to prop his chin on Dean’s shoulder. Dean turns his head, his cheek brushing Cas nose. 

     “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Dean,” Cas whispers, stretching out to kiss Dean’s cheek. Dean turns and hooks his hands around Cas’ middle, bringing their foreheads together. 

     “Really?” Dean asks, nosing against Cas. Cas laughs. 

     “Yes, Dean. _You’re_ all I’ve ever wanted.” Dean leans forward and kisses Cas. He can’t help it. "I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry for reacting the way I did after the bathroom thing...I just didn't want to hope. I'm really, really sorry about Meg...You were trying to tell me that day, weren't you?"

     "Yeah," Dean says softly, kissing Cas' forehead again. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but then I got nervous and started rambling and then _she_ showed up." 

     "I'm so sorry, Dean...I don't even know what I was doing with her. I guess I was just trying to figure out how I was supposed to get along without you."

     "Without me?" Dean questions, rubbing slow circles low into Cas' spine. 

     "Well, yes. I knew we couldn't do this 'friends with benefits' stuff forever. I've seen the movies. It was either going to end here," Cas pauses to kiss Dean, and when he pulls away, his eyes are incredibly sad as he thinks of the other possibility. "Or with us apart, and I mean really apart. I think I was just trying to figure out if I would ever be happy without you."

     "And? What did you find out?" 

     "That I will never be okay without you, ever." Cas smiles at Dean softly, and so what if Dean can't help but kiss him again? Cas is _his_ now. Really and truly his. "That day you found us in the treehouse was the third time we'd tried having sex. I could never get it up for her." Dean smiles and nods. He had similar issues with Lisa back when they were together, but Dean only kisses Cas again. 

     “I’m sorry I said all that about her,” Dean says softly when they pull away, carding his fingers through Cas’ hair. “Really, I am, but Meg’s gotta go.” Dean smiles and kisses Cas’ laughing mouth. 

     “Deal,” Cas agrees, reeling Dean in by his hair and kissing him. They stay that way for a while, kissing lazily and feeling each other like they always have. When they finally decide that they’ve had enough, Dean kisses his new _boyfriend_ and leads him home, kissing him again before finally letting him go and grinning all the way to his room. Sam pokes his dorkish head in after while, catches sight of Dean’s dopey grin, and throws his hands up in victory. 

     “Thank God!” he cheers, and Dean barely has the malicious energy to throw a pillow at him before he is back into that dopey state. 

     The next morning, he picks Cas up exactly the same as he always does, but everything is different now. Now, when Cas gets in the car, he sits in the middle, and when they are out of Ms. Milton's sight, Cas leans over and kisses Dean sloppily.

     “Hey, watch the road!” Sam cries when Dean begins to swerve in the next lane. Dean breaks away from Cas and tosses Sam a wink, throwing an arm around Cas’ shoulders and pulling him close. “You guys are gross,” Sam snorts, turning to the window and watching the trees pass with a small smile. 

     “So, _boyfriend_ , what do you want to do tonight?” Dean asks, pulling Cas closer and cherishing the hand Cas rests on his thigh. 

     “My mom is working late, and Anna is going to Rachel’s. We can go hang out at my house.”

     “I hope by ‘hang out’ you mean crazy amounts of making out and shower blow jobs,” Dean says, turning and batting his eyelashes at Cas. 

     “Dean!” Sam squeals, slamming his hands over his ears and turning ten shades of pink. Cas kisses Dean’s cheek. 

     “Of course it means shower blow jobs,” Cas assures, turning back to the road with a smile. 

     The school day does not pass fast enough, but when the day _does_ decide to end, he takes Cas by the elbow and rushes him to the car, barely remembering to load up Sammy before they’re speeding away towards Cas’ house. Dean is so excited that he literally puts Sam out at the end of Cas’ driveway and pulls Cas from the car. 

     They fall through the door with their tongues in each other’s mouths, hands wandering free and sliding under shirts and down into pants. Dean groans, pushing Cas against the wall, grinding his hips against Cas’ and swallowing the moan Cas gives for his efforts. 

     “Uh,” a new voice sounds, pulling them apart with the utterance. 

     “Anna,” Cas groans, putting his head back on Dean’s shoulder. “I thought you were going to Rachel’s.” Anna hikes her bag higher on her shoulder. 

     “Hi, Dean,” Anna says, tossing Dean a wave. 

     “Anna,” Dean says, his whole face ablaze with mortification and a small smile.

     “Well, I _am_ going to Rachel’s, however, I thought I might need clothes, so I came home only to see my brother canoodling his best friend. Thank God, by the way. I’ve about had enough of you two idiots being all woe-is-me. Mom will be back by nine, so don’t let her see you. Later guys. No sex unless it’s safe sex!” Anna pushes past them and slams the door behind her. Cas huffs out a laugh, putting his head in the crook of Dean’s neck.

     “Holy shit,” Dean laughs, wrapping his arms around Cas and kissing his hair. 

     “You can say that again.” 

     “Holy shit," he says, grinning widely at Cas. Cas merely rolls his eyes and kisses the corner of that grin. 

     "Do you want to move this party to my room?” Cas asks, leaning up and nipping at Dean's neck. Dean nods furiously, leaning away and sealing Cas' lips against his own. They kiss frantically, but then Cas is pulling away and taking Dean’s hand. They find themselves stretched out naked on Cas’ bed in no time.

     “Cas,” Dean moans, threading his fingers into Cas’ hair. “Cas, fuck me,” Dean moans, pulling Cas closer and sucking his way down his neck. 

     “Are you sure?” Cas asks, pulling away and leaving Dean to whine. 

     “ _Yes,_ ” Dean hisses, tugging gently on Cas’ hair to bring him back to his mouth. 

     “It’s my first time, Dean,” Cas whispers, pulling away to watch Dean. 

     “Do you not want to?” Dean asks, his confidence deflating.

     “What? No, of course, I do!” Cas sits back on his knees, and Dean follows, taking Cas’ face in his hands concernedly. 

     “Babe, what’s wrong?” Dean asks softly, stroking his thumb over Cas’ stubble. 

     “Nothing, it’s just...I always imagined _you_ inside of _me_ for our first time. That’s silly and it shouldn’t matter, I know, just as long as it’s you and me, but…I’ve never done this before, any of it. I don’t want to hurt you.” Dean smiles softly.

     “I want you, so much, Cas, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, ever. I also want your first time to be as perfect as you’ve ever imagined it, so we’ll do whatever you want. Say the word, Cas," Dean promises Cas with a smile, ducking his head to catch Cas’ eye. Cas gives a small smile in return, leaning forward and kissing Dean. “But if it’s just that you’ve never topped," Dean continues when they pull apart a bit. "Don’t worry. I trust you. This way, we can be virgins together.” 

     “Okay,” Cas whispers softly, kissing Dean again, running his hand over his shoulder and down his side, causing a rash of goosebumps to errupt on Dean's skin. When they break away, Cas slides his hand down and down and down until the pad of his finger is brushing against Dean’s hole. Dean puts his head back and tries not to groan. The heat of Cas’ chest against his disappears as he shifts towards Dean’s pelvis. When he gets there, he presses a soft kiss to Dean’s hipbone, noses his way down the length of Dean’s cock, and licks over Dean’s balls before his tongue is pushing against Dean’s rim. 

     “Shit,” Dean hisses, closing his eyes and trying to think through the relentless push and swirl of Cas’ tongue. Cas eats him slowly, lapping at his insides again and again just because Dean wants him to. Eventually, he removes his tongue and pushes a tentative finger inside. Dean hisses again, this time recoiling slightly.

     “Does it hurt?” Cas asks eyes flicking up to Dean’s concernedly. 

     “Nah, it just burns a little. Keep going,” Dean says, with a nod. Cas watches him a moment longer before continuing to stretch Dean. He pushes his finger in a little further, twisting and hooking until he brushes across the small mound inside Dean, feeling him gasp beneath him. “Feels good,” Dean murmurs, rolling his head back against the pillows. Cas smiles and brushes a kiss against the inside of Dean’s thigh. 

     “Dean,” Cas whispers, brushing his finger across Dean’s prostate again, making him jerk. Dean hums an affirmative, and Cas adds another finger. “I love you,” he murmurs, and Dean laughs. 

     “You’re already in my pants, Cas. You don’t have to say that,” Dean huffs, grinning down to Cas. 

     “I’m serious, Dean. I’m in love with you.” Dean closes his eyes, Cas’ fingers still moving slowly in and out of him, stretching him steadily for Cas’ cock. He loves Cas. He knows that, beyond a shadow of a doubt. They've always been Cas and Dean, Dean and Cas. Never would you find one without the other, and never would you want to. Dean loves Cas, but Cas _can’t_ love him. Cas is too good, too kind, and he is too wonderful for Dean. Dean is not good. He is not kind, and he is not worthy. There’s no way Cas can love him. Then Cas adds another finger, and the moment gets sorted away to deal with later. 

     “Christ, Cas,” Dean growls, burying a hand in Cas’ hair and pressing down onto his fingers. Cas sighs against Dean’s thigh, partially because Dean wouldn’t say he loved him and partially because Dean is gloriously hot around his fingers. He brushes against Dean’s prostate once again, stretching him wide before kissing his way back up to Dean’s mouth. 

     “You’re so good for me, baby,” Cas murmurs, brushing a kiss across Dean’s lips and hitting the good spot with his fingers. Dean arches up beneath him, and Cas uses the moment to slip an arm beneath him. “Are you sure you want this?” Cas asks, because Dean’ ass is giving easily, and Cas may be mostly a virgin, but he knows Dean is ready. 

     “More than anything,” Dean whispers, sweat pooling on his chest, against his spine. Cas stares at Dean for a moment longer before nodding and slowly pulling his fingers from Dean. Dean swallows heavily, but Cas’ eyes never leave his, not even as he fumbles around for a condom, not even as he puts it on, not even as he lubes it up, returning a finger to Dean’s hole to slick that up with more than spit. His eyes never once leave Dean’s. Not when Cas hooks Dean’s leg high around his waist, and definitely not when he lines the head of his cock up with Dean’s hole.

     “It’s okay,” Dean assures, reaching up and threading a hand through Cas’ hair, pulling their foreheads flush together. Cas blinks, kisses Dean once again and pushes in slowly, a shaky breath leaving him.

     “Dean,” he breathes when he is fully seated inside of him. 

     “M’ right here. I got you, Cas,” Dean mutters against the side of Cas’ neck. He starts slowly, rocking his hips back and forth rolling against Dean with every thrust. Dean’s eyes are screwed tight, hands gripping Cas’ arms, his back, his hair, his ass like he’s got nothing else in the world to hold on to. 

     “Are you alright?” Cas asks, his hips stilling slowly, drawing a whine out of Dean. 

     “Please, Cas,” Dean moans against the side of Cas’ neck. “Don’t stop,” so Cas doesn’t. He moves against Dean, inside Dean, sweat slicking the slide of their bodies. The only things either of them can hear is the moans of the other and their own heart pounding inside their chests. Cas’ rhythm picks up steadily, going faster and harder and earning filthy moans for his efforts. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans, lifting his hips so that Cas’ every thrust hits against his prostate. Cas licks the sweat away from Dean’s neck and pulls a hand around front to grip Dean’s cock. He doesn’t give Dean a moment to ease into it. No, he just starts jerking Dean in time with the thrusting of his hips, hand clenched sure and tight and steady. 

     With every single thrust of Cas’ hips hitting his prostate, Dean knows it won’t take long. Just a few more seconds… Cas senses that Dean is close and picks up the pace, twisting his wrist and swiping his palm over Dean’s head. 

     “Holy fuck,” Dean grunts, his come shooting out over both of their chests and stomachs. He lets out a breathy little laugh at the release. 

     “I meant it, Dean,” Cas huffs after a moment, his hips slamming harder and harder, faster and faster.

     “Not the time,” Dean grunts in response, bringing his forehead against the curve of Cas’ shoulder in his state of sated bliss.

     “Please, Dean,” Cas says, whines, begs. “Just say it for me. Please. I need it. You don’t even have to mean it.” He sounds wrecked, impossibly so. Dean pulls away from Cas’ shoulder to stare into his eyes. The rhythm of his hips falters, and for a disappointing second, Dean thinks Cas won’t need Dean’s love after all. “Please,” Cas sobs, now looking as wrecked as he sounds. 

     “I love you, Cas,” Dean says, his voice impossibly soft, impossibly tender, impossibly sincere, but apparently, it is enough. The moment after the words leave Dean’s lips, Cas is moaning into Dean’s shoulder, sobbing against him, arms clenched tight as though Dean would ever walk away, as though he ever could. “Shh,” he croons, rubbing Cas’ back through his orgasm. “I've got you, babe.” 

     When it is over, Cas sags against Dean, wilting slowly inside of him, Dean’s come slowly cooling between them. Dean lets him, holding his boyfriend close to his chest and staring up at the ceiling, uncaring to the nastiness of this post sex state. Dean stares up at that ceiling for an eternity.

     “Cas,” Dean whispers, lips brushing his clammy forehead. Cas doesn’t answer; he’s probably already asleep. “I meant it too,” he whispers, arms tightening around Cas. A long moment passes, and in that moment, Dean sees that, yes, Cas _is_ asleep. Dean lets out the breath he had been holding and settles himself down for a good night’s sleep. 

     “Good,” Cas whispers, right as the world slips away from Dean.


	8. Chapter 8

     The time flies by. Day in and day out, Cas and Dean are the dynamic duo. Dean keeps refusing Lisa’s requests, Cas keeps fending off Meg’s advances, they keep falling in love, and it’s great. It’s magical. It’s everything either of them could have ever asked for. It is the sun in their sky and the grass on their ground and the air in their lungs. They fight, sure, like every healthy couple fights, but they always go back to one another. Cas has never been happier. Dean has never felt better. Dean is head over heels in love with his best friend, and he’s not afraid to show it…except to his dad…and Cas’ mom…and the general public. 

     So...their parents still don’t know, and it makes their dating a lot harder. Even so, they manage, and soon, winter is here, wrapping around them like a warm quilt of promise to begin each day. 

     “Cas,” Dean groans, rolling gently onto his sleeping boyfriend. Dean knows they have the house to themselves, for Gabe is away at college while Anna and Ms. Milton are visiting family up north for the holidays. “Caaassss,” Dean whines, bouncing until Cas’ eyes snap open to glare at Dean. 

     “Dean Winchester, so help me, if you don’t leave me the hell alone, I will kick your ass to the curb,” Cas growls around the pillow smashed to his face.

     “Grumpy pants in the morning, are we?” Dean says, mouthing along Cas’ neck and exposed shoulders, back and glorious ass. Cas grumbles again, but Dean is not convinced, especially with the way Cas is writhing beneath him, spreading his legs and arching his ass up to meet Dean’s nipping and licking mouth. Dean bites Cas’ ass cheek before lapping his tongue along the bite to soothe it. He then licks broad stripes against the underside curve of Cas’ ass, where Cas' cheek meets his leg. He makes it to the middle and laps at Cas’ hole, earning himself a whine from Cas. 

     The first time Dean made love to Cas was weeks ago, mere days after their first time period. Cas was a whimpering mess, and Dean decided that he rather liked seeing Cas come undone beneath him, almost as much as he liked seeing Cas come undone above him. So Dean takes hold of Cas’ hips and pushes his tongue inside him, savoring the whimper Cas lets out. From there, Dean stretches him slowly, first with his tongue, then with his fingers, pulling him apart until Cas is nothing but a writhing mess beneath him. 

     “Dean, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he chants, fingers holding tight to the sheets and spreading wider for Dean. Dean has three fingers inside of him, brushing against his prostate again and again. 

     “I will, baby,” Dean croons, rolling Cas gently so they are face to face and slipping his tongue out to lap at the head of Cas’ cock. Cas whines and jerks his hips. 

     “Please, _please,_ Dean.” Cas is whining, gripping tight to the sheets, and Dean knows he is nearly out of his mind. Dean doesn’t relent though. He keeps stretching him hot and slow, never stopping sucking Cas' cock down his throat just for kicks. “Dean, please, please. I’m ready. I swear, I'm ready," Cas whines on repeat, but Dean thinks he’s just a little cockslut who'd say anything if it meant Dean fucking him sooner. When _Dean_ feels Cas is acceptably stretched and wrecked enough to continue, Dean pulls off and out, savoring the whimper Cas lets out at the loss. He watches Cas lay there, eyes blissed shut and chest heaving as Dean rolls on a condom and slicks himself with lube. 

     “Ready, Cas?” Dean asks, leaning close and nosing against Cas’ neck. Cas lets out a huff of air that Dean thinks is supposed to be a laugh. 

     “Are you fucking kidding?” Cas asks, finally relinquishing his hold on the sheets and bringing his hands up along Dean’s sides. Dean grins and kisses his boyfriend, threading his fingers through Cas’ hair. 

     “Alright,” Dean murmurs, pulling back and lining his cock up with Cas’ tight hole before pushing slowly past the ring of muscle, letting out a shaky exhale for every millimeter he feels Cas around him. He feels Cas, despite the shaking of his hands, relax beneath him, allowing Dean complete access. “Fuck,” he hisses when he is fully buried in Cas. His hands are threaded through Cas’, his forehead resting on Cas' shoulder as he reigns the control it takes not to slam into Cas again and again because he’s so fucking hot and tight. 

     “Dean,” Cas whimpers, and that’s all it takes for Dean to decide control is overrated. He pulls his hips out slowly, giving Cas moment to prepare before he slams back forward, moaning into Cas’ neck. Dean thrusts into him again and again, holding tight to Cas’ fingers, his mouth opened against Cas’ neck. Dean can feel Cas’ ragged breathing, his cock rubbing between their stomachs. Dean knows neither of them will last much longer. 

     “Cas, I want you to come with me,” Dean gasps, pulling away slightly to stare into Cas’ sex-crazed eyes. Cas nods rapidly, his lips parted and panting. Dean untwines one of their hands and reaches between them to stroke Cas. He never tears his eyes from Cas’, even as his rhythm stutters and the heat in his gut reaches into overwhelming territory. One last brush of Cas’ prostate has Cas coming over Dean’s hand and stomach, eyes squeezing shut as his body spasms. The sight of Cas falling to pieces, along with the tight clench and hot promise of his orgasm, sends Dean coming right after him, his forehead falling against Cas’ shoulder when he’s got nothing left. 

     He lays there on top of Cas for a long while, breathing in the scent of sex and Cas, enjoying Cas' rubbing fingers against his scalp and through his hair. Eventually, he rolls off of him, his wilting dick sliding free as well, causing a soft whine to tear through them both. He sits up and begins the meticulous and monotonous project of his and Cas' clean-up. Eventually, he lays back down and draws Cas close, an easy arm coming up to wrap around his shoulders. 

     “Babe, Christmas is in like four days,” Dean says, holding tight to Cas, pressing kisses into his hair.

     “Yes,” Cas murmurs, his lips brushing against Dean’s still sweaty chest. Dean knows Cas is pressed close so that he can hear Dean’s heartbeat drumming against his ribs. 

     “Is there anything you want?” Dean asks, looking down but finding himself only able to see Cas’ dark head of hair. 

     “Nothing I don’t already have,” Cas says, kissing Dean’s breastbone gently. 

     “Come on, Cas. This is our first Christmas together as a couple. I want it to be special.” Dean rubs slow circles into Cas’ back, his lips playing gently in that dark tuft of hair. Eventually, Cas props up on Dean’s chest, chin digging into his sternum and eyes burning holes.

     “You know what I want for Christmas?” Cas murmurs, reaching up and pushing a hand through Dean’s hair. 

     “Mmm, do tell,” Dean says with a grin. 

     “I want _you,_ ” he says, stretching up to kiss Dean's lips. Dean grins when they separate. 

     “You’re being a huge dork right now,” he deems, still rubbing those big, warm circles into Cas’ back. Cas rolls his eyes and lays his head back on his boyfriend’s chest. 

     “Really, Dean. I want us to be able to be together like a real couple. I want to be able to hold your hand in public. I want to be able to kiss your cheek in front of my mom. I want to be able to tell my brother how much you mean to me.” 

     “Don’t be ridiculous, Cas,” Dean murmurs, a dark, slow sadness filling his chest. 

     “You asked what I wanted…that’s it.”

     “You know that can’t happen, baby, for your sake and mine.”

     “I hate it, Dean. I hate that everyone else gets to be with the one they love, and I don’t.” Cas huffs irritably, and Dean smiles. 

     “Babe,” he prompts, squeezing Cas a bit tighter. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m right here. Yours for the taking.” Cas turns again, locking eyes with Dean. 

     “You’re right,” he murmurs, stretching forward and kissing Dean again. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

     “No, I understand. You don’t know how many times I’ve watched you being a dork in public.” Cas pushes Dean's face away playfully, a grin on his face. “And when I watch you,” Dean continues seriously. “It takes _everything in me_ to keep from kissing you. I’d change it if I could, Cas. I’d make my mom and my dad switch places because she would go beyond absolutely adoring and loving you. Not only that, but she’d be proud of me for finding anyone who can put up with me like you do.” Cas presses a soft kiss against Dean’s chest. “Then I’d give _you_ a better mom, one who would accept you regardless of your sexuality.” Cas pushes closer against Dean. “I’d change it if it were up to me. I’d change it in a heartbeat…but it isn’t. All we’ve got is a bedroom when no one’s home. You deserve so much more than that, Cas, but...it’s all I have to offer.”

     “It’s enough,” Cas whispers, and in that moment, it really feels as though it might be.

     They lay there for a while, lazily kissing and holding until Dean decides he must eat. Then they pull on clothes and pad into the kitchen, eating cereal like it is the breakfast of champions and laughing around the mouthfuls they take. 

     “I love you,” Cas murmurs, a smile ghosting across his lips as he looks at his boyfriend, milk dripping down his chin and hair askew from Cas' hands. Dean slurps and swallows.

     “I love you too, you dork,” he says, grinning fondly. 

     After leaving Cas’ house that night, Dean takes a long walk, wandering aimlessly around town before returning to Sceadan Street. His eyes ghost over the sign, like it usually does, but this time, something about it catches his eye. It is an unspectacular sign, the chipping, forest green paint giving way to the slate-gray metal. _Sceadan…_ Dean grins and jogs back to his garage. A few moments later, he is staring back up at the sign, tools in hand and an itch to take.

* * *

     “So, Sammy,” Dean says later, his stolen sign hidden between his mattress and box spring. “What did you get Jess for Christmas?” They are sitting in Dean’s room, backs pressed against the wall and talking like they haven’t seen each other in years, and really, they haven’t. Sure, they’ve technically _seen_ each other; they've teased, as usual, but it’s been months since they have done more than co-exist in the same space. Sam lays his shaggy head back against the wall and stares to the ceiling. 

     “Nothing…I have no idea what so ever,” Sam says defeatedly. “I am the worst boyfriend ever.”

     “Nah…I got Cas a street sign,” Dean says with a small laugh. Dean, despite his low sense of self-worth, honestly believes Cas will love his gift. 

     “At least you got him _something._ Jess wants to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve, and I have nothing. I want it to be perfect for her.”

     “Maybe you should bang her,” Dean says teasingly. “Best gift _I’ve_ ever gotten.” 

     “Come on, Dean,” Sam says with a roll of his eyes, but his cheeks have heated, giving Dean the satisfaction he was seeking. “She’s too good for that.”

     “She said she’s too good for you?” Dean asks incredulously. Not only is he offended for the sake of his brother, but he is disbelieving that sweet Jess would say such a thing. 

     “No,” Sam dismisses quickly with a wide wave of his hand. “ _I_ said she’s too good for me.”

     “Oh, shut up, Sam,” Dean says as he rolls his eyes. “You have no reason to feel not good enough. You’re the best kid I know.”

     “Yeah, because I have a whole lot of reasons _to_ feel good enough,” Sam says with a biting snort. “We Winchesters sure know how to instill a sense of self-worth into our kids.” Sam turns away from Dean, knee bouncing and tongue sucking at teeth to keep from sniffing. 

     “Hey, Dad is doing the best he can,” Dean says, ever one to defend his father. 

     “You’re right. Passing out on the couch is the best he can do.” 

     “Dude. What is your problem?” Dean spits, jerking Sam’s shoulder so they are face to face. Dean is shocked to find hot tears welling in Sam’s eyes. Sam chews on his lip a moment before speaking, his pubescent voice breaking more than usual. 

     “Her birthday was this month…and I forgot,” Sam whispers, unable to hold his brothers eyes for the shame in him. “I forgot Mom’s birthday,” he gets out, and the tears tear their way through him, racking his lanky body with sobs. 

     “Sammy,” Dean croons, reaching out and pulling his baby brother to his chest. Sam cries there like he hasn’t in years, arms clinging to Dean and snot soiling his shirt. “It’s okay,” Dean assures, but it only makes Sam cry harder. 

     “No it’s not! How could it be alright? She would _never_ have forgotten my birthday,” Sam cries, spit flinging from his lips and spattering into Dean’s shirt. “I miss her so much,” he says, then apparently, he tires of talking, instead taking to only sobbing into his brother’s shoulder. Dean just holds him tight, running gentle hands through his hair and rubbing soothing circles into his back like he barely remembers his mom doing for him. Eventually, Sam’s sobs slow, and after a few moment of mere clinging, he pulls away, wiping at his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he says, pushing out a broken and fake laugh. “I’m thirteen years old. I shouldn’t be sobbing like that.” 

     “It’s okay to cry, Sammy,” Dean tells him, shifting his shoulders against the cooling tears and spit and snot his baby brother laid into his shoulder. Sam snorts another half-laugh and shifts back on Dean’s bed. “Listen," Dean continues slowly. "I know you miss her. I miss her too, believe me.”

     “You do?” Sam asks, turning with wide eyes to his brother.

     “Of course. Everyday.”

     “You never mention her,” Sam murmurs, dropping his eyes to his fumbling hands in his lap. 

     “Well yeah. It’s hard for me to talk about her…” Dean shrugs and tries to shake away the feeling of sadness rising up in him at the thought of her. 

     “I don’t even remember her,” Sam admits quietly, almost ashamedly, and Dean smiles. 

     “She was wonderful. She loved you like crazy.” Sam offers a small smile, but his eyes are still on his hands. “Hey, Sam…” Dean starts, rubbing the back of his own neck gently. “I just want you to know...I tried. I really did.” Dean looks down to his feet, stretched off the edge of the bed and kicking anxiously. Sam stares at him, confusion on his face before he gets it. 

     “Dean, what are you even talking about?” Sam asks, ducking his head to catch Dean’s eye. “You’re the best mom/dad anyone has ever had. You’ve given up so much for me.”

     “It was nothing,” Dean mutters, though in fact it was. It was losing sleep as a five year old to soothe Sammy’s nightmares. It was hours sitting in a bathroom floor as a six year old to teach Sammy to use the toilet. It was starting work from the first moment he could to get some money for Sam’s college. It was kissing scraped knees, killing imaginary monsters, sacrificing the last bowl of Lucky Charms. 

     “Yes, it was. You raised me practically on your own.”

     “We had Dad,” Dean defends weakly. “Uncle Bobby was here when he could be.”

     “Yeah and Dad was always either too drunk or not drunk enough. I mean, Bobby helped where he could, but he didn’t get his job here until just a few years ago and by then you had already raised me. I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to repay you.” Sam is gazing at his brother with such pride and adoration that Dean barely manages to speak confidently around the blush.

     “You know what you can do to repay me? Take Jess out for ice cream. Go to college. Be happy, for Christ’s sake. If you really want to repay me, you’ll take every opportunity ever passed your way.” Sam watches Dean for a long moment, those big puppy dog eyes staring up at him. 

     “Deal,” Sam agrees, and a weight lifts off Dean’s chest. 

     “I’m gonna hold you to that, you little bitch,” Dean assures, reaching out and punching Sam’s shoulder gently. 

     “Jerk,” Sam replies, a grin on his face before he scoots to the edge and tosses a wink back at Dean. 

     The next morning, Dean is pulled from sleep by John’s gruff voice yelling through the halls, heard even over his blaring Pink Floyd. His first thought, as it often is, is Sam, and in seconds, he has ripped the headphones from his head and torn out into the hall wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms. He heads straight for his little brother's room, but when he gets there, he sees Sam struggling to get out from under his covers and the weight of sleep. John is nowhere in sight. 

     “Wha’s goin’ on?” Sam mutters, pushing his sleep-matted hair out of his face with his hand.

     “You got dried drool on your chin, doofus,” Dean says, rolling his eyes and turning away from Sam, his heart rate skipping back down to normal now that he knows his baby brother is safe. He scrubs a hand through his hair and pads off to see what’s gotten John’s drunken undies in a twist, following the sound all the way to the front door. When he gets there, he sees that John is standing in the threshold, arguing with Bobby.

     “Bobby?” Dean asks, cocking his head to the side. John and Bobby don’t usually argue. They have been best friends since before Dean was born, and for a long while, they had much the relationship that Dean and Cas have now, minus the mind-blowing gay sex. Bobby has always been the one to pull John back when he got too close to destruction, the one to block a punch meant for one of the boys, the one to talk some sense into them all when they need it. He is normally abundantly patient with John, giving him chance after chance, time after time. 

     “Hey, son,” Bobby says, cutting John a glare before pushing past him and into the living room where Dean stands. Bobby opens his arms for a hug, and his scruffy beard feels funny against Dean's bare shoulder. 

     “Bobby, damn it! You can’t just push into my house and demand that I let you stay here,” John half-shouts, but he sounds more irritated than angry. 

     “How many times have I let you and the boys stay at my house?” Bobby asks, pulling away from Dean and glaring at John. Judging by the harsh silence that follows, John knows the answer just as much as Dean does, the answer being any time they ever needed to. “You’re saying I can’t stay here for _three days_ so I can spend Christmas with you and the boys?” John glowers, and Bobby knows he has won. So in semblance of his victory, he turns away from John. “Your bother up?” he asks Dean, and Dean nods. “Good,” and Bobby is off moving towards Sam’s room. Dean watches him walk away for a moment before turning his eyes back to John. He looks seriously hungover, but as far as Dean can tell, the only alcohol in his system is left from what he ingested yesterday. 

     “What?” John spits, and Dean drops his eyes. 

     “Nothing, sir,” he murmurs and turns away from his father.


	9. Chapter 9

     Over the next two days, Dean hardly has the time to sneak away and be alone with Cas. What makes it worse is that, since his own family is away, Cas is always there at Dean's, sitting a respectable distance away, smiling politely at what ever Bobby says, touching Dean only what is platonically acceptable. There's the occasional shoulder touch...the ‘accidental’ hand brush...the discreet foot sliding up Dean’s leg under the dinner table, and all the while Cas, hands folded innocently under his chin, carries on a perfectly normal conversation with Bobby about something Dean is too busy trying not to rut against Cas to listen to. It is all driving Dean relatively crazy, and when Dean decides he can no longer take the torture of Cas being so damn close and very obviously off-limits, he stands abruptly from the table, turning every eye and bringing a blush to his already bothered cheeks. 

     “Gotta piss,” he mutters and turns away from the table, bending awkwardly as he does his best to hide just what a frenzy Cas’ foot has worked Dean’s dick into. Dean half sprints, half scuttles to the bathroom, locking the door behind him with a huff. He knows that after a while, someone will ask what is taking him so long, and he knows after that, Cas will offer to check on him. Sure enough, Dean hears the scrape of a chair down the hall as Cas stands and makes his way to the bathroom. The knock comes a few seconds later, and Dean is immediately swinging it open and jerking Cas through, promptly shutting it behind the other boy and pinning him against it. 

     "Dean,” Cas gasps in shock, but Dean swallows it down as he kisses him, open mouthed and desperate for now, now, _now_. “What is it with you and bathrooms?” Cas mutters around Dean’s lips, but Dean doesn't have time for teasing banter. 

     “Shut the fuck up. We don’t have long,” he says, pushing his hips against Cas’, jerking Cas’ head back by the roots of his hair, and latching onto every piece of skin the motion exposes. Dean needs Cas as hard as he is, and he needs him there _now._ Cas lets out another choked squeak, hands fumbling for purchase against Dean’s back as Dean grinds hard against him, nipping at the spot where Cas’ neck meets his shoulder before soothing over it with his tongue. Soon enough, Cas’ fumbling hands become demanding hands, grabbing Dean’s ass and tugging through his hair. 

     Cas lets out a groan, and Dean bites down on his shoulder to shut him the fuck up. He gets the message, burying his face in Dean’s neck to muffle the sound. He arches up to meet Dean’s thrusts down, and Dean is so fucking hard that the jeans against him are deliciously painful, especially when riding against the thick ridge in Cas’ pants. Dean drives hard against Cas, pushing against his hips again and again, the heat in his stomach pooling rapidly. Dean can’t help the groan that falls from between his lips, and muffled as it is by Cas’ shoulder, it is still too loud.

     “Shut up. They’ll hear us,” Cas reminds, panting and tugging at Dean’s hair again.

     “I know,” Dean groans, grabbing Cas’ ass to pull him up into his next thrust. "I don't care." The risk of exposure, as always, makes it that much more exciting. “Tell me I’m yours, Cas,” Dean growls, remembering their first semi-public romp and squeezing the handful of firm ass he has, earning himself a whimper from Cas.

     “You’re mine. No one else can have you. Fucking _mine_ , you hear me?” 

     “I’m fucking yours,” Dean agrees, his orgasm pushing against him. He just needs Cas here. 

     “And I’m fucking yours,” Cas grunts, and there it is. Dean bites down against Cas’ shoulder to keep from yelling out, and a few seconds later, he feels Cas’ head smacking into the door behind him as his own orgasm hits him. When he feels Cas begin to crumble beneath him, Dean licks gently at the spot he chomped down on, Cas’ hands sliding slowly out of Dean’s hair. 

     “They’re going to wonder what took us so long,” Cas murmurs, planting a gentle kiss against Dean’s shoulder. 

     “Tell them I shit in my pants,” Dean offers with a snort, his fingers still locked in Cas’ hair as he turns to kiss him. 

     “I love you,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s lips, and no matter how many times he hears Cas utter those words, his stomach still does a tiny flip. It will probably always do that little flip to those little words.

     “You too, you dork,” Dean says, leaning back in and kissing Cas as chastely as can be managed with come cooling in his pants. “Now get out there, tiger,” Dean says, pushing away from the door and slapping Cas' ass as he turns to walk away. 

     “You’re coming over to my place tonight,” Cas says, and it isn’t a question. It is a demand. 

     "Anna and your mom still up north?” Dean asks, and Cas nods. 

     “Yes. They aren’t coming home until tomorrow morning.”

     “Then I’ll be there,” Dean assures with a wink. “We’ll have lots of sex where I can come in something other than my pants.” 

     “You can come in _my_ pants,” Cas offers with a wink, leaning forward to kiss Dean again before slipping out of the door. 

     “Holy shit,” Dean laughs, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I am so fucking lost on him,” he decides, running a hand down his face as the excitement builds in his chest. 

     The rest of dinner is damn near excruciating. Cas no longer has his foot against Dean’s crotch; instead, it is nudging Dean’s sweetly. It makes Dean want to hold Cas’ hand or kiss his forehead or smooth his hair down or some other stupid coupley shit like that, which is dangerous because he’s very likely to do all of those things without ever thinking. Even so, they make it through, and Dean decides that, oh, well since Bobby is here to keep the drunk and the child entertained, he'll just go to Cas’ house. Thus, they make their escape, trying not to run but being too eager to walk. 

     They barely make it through Cas' front door before they’re clinging and kissing and pushing against each other. Dean makes quick work of urging Cas’ coat to the ground after shrugging out of his own. Their sweaters go next, followed by their undershirts, leaving their hot-skinned chests to press entirely together without restraint. Dean’s fingers begin to fumble blindly with Cas’ belt, but Cas becomes a giggling mess before Dean can get the buckle open.

     “What?” Dean asks, pulling away slightly, his fingers stuck between the belt and the warm stretch of flesh at Cas’ waist. 

     “It tickles,” Cas says with a grin. Dean stares at Cas for a long moment before slipping his hands from beneath the band and pulling Cas closer to him by the arch of his hipbones. 

     “I’m so fucking in love with you,” Dean says before trapping Cas’ lips with his own, leaning over the slightly shorter man. 

     “Ditto,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s lips. When Dean pulls away, their foreheads find their way together, resting with eyes closed until Cas’ spring open. “I have your Christmas gift,” Cas says suddenly, pulling away while his hands rest on Dean’s chest. “Let me go grab it.” Cas removes himself from Dean’s arms, his tight little ass shaking as he walks away. Dean gets excited just thinking about riding it later. Even so, he moves to get his own present for Cas.

     It is wrapped in an old t-shirt of Dean’s, one he’s very likely not to get back. He really doesn’t mind. He likes people seeing Cas in his clothes, even if they don’t know they’re his. Cas returns just as Dean gets the bow resituated on the fabric of the shirt. Cas approaches excitedly with a giftbag in hand, but Dean presses his gift forward first and wraps an easy arm around Cas’ waist as he takes it and begins to unwrap the t-shirt. “I hope you know I’m keeping this,” Cas mutters, motioning to the shirt. 

     “I would expect nothing less,” Dean says with a smile before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Cas’ shoulder. When Cas gets the shirt off, he flips the sign so he can read it, and as he does, a grin spreads across his lips.

     “I wondered what happened to our street sign...I should have known it was my hooligan boyfriend,” he says, turning to kiss Dean gently. 

     “Do you get it?” Dean asks when they separate. 

     “Yes. It’s _our_ street, where we’ve spent our lives and fallen in love. It has been the base of our whole world.” 

     “Yes, but look at it. If you just rearrange the letters a little,” Dean says, pointing to the chipping letters. “S-C-E-A-D-A-N becomes C-A-S-D-E-A-N.” 

     “It’s an anagram,” Cas says with delight lacing his voice. “And it says our names.” He lets out a short laugh. “I can’t believe I never noticed that.” Dean smiles and pulls Cas closer.

     “You like it?” he asks uncertainly, ever one to be unsure of himself. 

     “I love it. It’s our whole lives in a street sign,” Cas says, wrapping an easy arm around Dean’s neck and stretching up to kiss him. Dean holds him a little closer, parting his lips to let Cas’ roaming tongue slip inside his mouth. When they pull apart, Cas rests his forehead against Dean’s, fingers brushing soft patterns into his cheeks. After a while, Cas pulls away completely and offers Dean the gift bag. Dean digs into it excitedly, and when he gets past the last sheet of tissue paper, he finds a rectangular, wooden frame. He pulls it out gently, and in it is a black and white picture of a woman with a small, bundled baby in her arms. He stares at her for a long moment, taking in the way her waving, blonde hair fades from the black and white color scheme into a light gray. He takes in her eyes, though they are as bright as ever, and he takes in the short sentence printed beneath the faded picture in blocky news type. It reads, _New mother Mary Winchester and her son, Dean._

    “Cas,” Dean chokes out, tearing his eyes away from his mother to look up at his softly smiling boyfriend. 

     “You told me every picture of her burned. I wanted you to have at least one,” he says with a shrug. Dean is looking back down at her, and she is smiling up at him. She is beautiful. She is radiant, holding gently to the baby in her arms.

     “How did you find this?” he asks around the lump in his throat.

     “I pulled some favors with my friends at the library.” Cas is smiling fondly at Dean. Some favors, in reality, had been Cas bribing the librarians onto letting him in after closing hours and upon succeeding, spending weeks searching through multiple newspapers' new born archives. He would do it again too, if it meant seeing Dean as happy as he looks right now. 

     “Thank you, Cas,” Dean says, his voice shaking slightly. He pulls Cas to him in a hug, burying himself in Cas’ neck, in Cas’ scent, in Cas’ existence. Cas presses a kiss to Dean's shoulder.

     “Anything for you, Dean,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean can do nothing to stop the tears but press his face into Cas’ neck. Cas knows it too, because after a while of gentle fingers running through Dean’s hair, Cas speaks to pull him from his thoughts. “Come, my love. Let’s go to my room,” and what else can Dean do but pull himself away from Cas' neck, wipe his hands down his face, and accept? Cas takes Dean’s hand and leads him down the hall, pulling him to his room with a small smile. He strips down right there, giving Dean a full view before he crawls towards him, pushing him back against the bed and kissing him insistently. It is enough to get Dean out of his soppy and sentimental mindset and into the mindset that his boyfriend wants to have sex with him.

     “You’re a goddamned twink,” Dean mutters, squeezing Cas’ ass. It’s the hottest thing Dean’s seen all day. 

     “I have no idea what that means,” Cas says, sucking a trail down Dean’s chest before stopping at the band of his jeans and pulling them down over Dean’s hips and tossing them to the floor. 

     “Means you’re hot, young, and gay,” Dean answers, shifting his hips with the gentle rub of Cas’ hand. His jeans are elsewhere, so all he has to worry about now is the thin layer of cotton separating them. 

     “Well, then you’re a twink too,” Cas counters, crawling back up to Dean and laying on his chest, his knee falling easily between Dean’s thighs. “I’m assuming by ‘gay,’ you simply mean attracted to men. Bisexual counts too then.”

     “I guess,” Dean laughs, bringing an arm up to circle Cas’ shoulders and pull him flush to his chest. “But no, I’m not a twink. Twinks are small, and I’m not small.” Cas’ head quirks in confusion. 

     “Neither am I,” he says confusedly. “I’m only slightly shorter than you, and though my muscle mass isn’t quite as great as yours, my bone size and structure is very similar.” 

     “Shut up, Cas. It’s a good thing. Twinks are hot. You’re hot.” Dean leans up and kisses Cas, effectively ending the conversation. Cas’ lips are demanding, hands tugging and pressing, and Dean wants Cas inside of him right this minute. Dean rolls them so he is pressed down the front of Cas, his thinly sheathed cock rubbing against Cas’ bareness. Dean moves down Cas slowly, sucking at his pulse point and licking against his collarbone, ghosting his fingers over his ribs and swallowing every soft gasp and moan Cas lets slip out. Soon enough, he is sucking big bruises into Cas’ hipbones and licking over them with his tongue before sucking the head of Cas’ cock between his lips. Cas groans at the heat, bucks up slightly into Dean’s mouth, and buries his hand into Dean’s hair. Dean sucks him down again and again, careful to keep himself from finishing it. He wants Cas inside of him when he comes, and when he gets too close, Dean pulls off with a pop.

     “Dean!” Cas half-shrieks, but Dean just grins. 

     “I want you to fuck me,” he says, lips brushing the shaft of Cas’ cock. 

     “Yes, yes, please,” Cas says, bringing his hips up in hopes of getting just a bit more friction with those lips. 

     “Good,” Dean whispers, pressing soft kiss against Cas’ dick before scooting back up to his mouth, lips swollen and pink. He presses down against Cas again, knee nudging between Cas’ thighs. They kiss for a long time, rutting slowly against each other, losing themselves in the monotony of it until Cas slips his hand down the back of Dean’s shorts, the tip of his finger pressing tentatively against Dean’s hole. Dean presses back against him, but Cas removes his fingers and brings them around to Dean’s lips.

     “Get them wet,” Cas breathes, watching with lust-lidded eyes as Dean sucks the digits into his mouth, slicking them with spit, dipping his tongue between them, slurping all the while. When Cas pulls his hand away, a string of spit follows him a good ways to Dean’s ass. “Take your underwear off,” Cas says, his gruff voice sending a jolt of electricity straight down Dean’s spine to his cock. Dean wriggles over Cas, hands trembling as he hurries to follow orders. The minute his underwear is on the floor, Cas’ slippery hand is sliding down between Dean’s butt cheeks and teasing at the pucker of skin between them.

     “Come on, Cas,” Dean groans, arching up against the slow rub of Cas’ fingers. 

     “Foreplay is all the fun,” Cas says, pushing a finger in slowly, tortuously.

     “I taught you that, you one-minute wonder,” Dean hisses, sucking hard on Cas’ neck and pushing back against his finger. 

     “Hurtful,” Cas mutters, hooking his finger against Dean’s prostate, making Dean groan. 

     “Stop fucking around and fuck me already,” Dean moans, so Cas slips another finger in, now prepping him hard and fast before adding another finger, opening him up for Cas’ cock. Dean’s dick rubs against Cas’ every time he pushes back against Cas’ hand, driving them both half crazy. Cas’ fingers in his ass are nice, but Dean needs more, and he needs it now. “I’m good,” he insists, moving away from Cas’ hand. Cas huffs out a laugh, one that Dean promptly steals with his lips. Dean feels Cas’ fingers slip from him, but he keeps swirling his tongue against Cas’, keeps running his hands over his torso as he feels Cas spread lube around his hole. He only stops when he hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

     “Wait,” he gasps, pulling away and catching Cas’ wrists. Dean looks Cas dead in the eye when he speaks. “I want to go bare back.” Cas’ breath hitches in his throat. 

     “You want…”

     “Yeah, Cas,” Dean says, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Cas'.

     “Okay,” Cas murmurs, staring deep into Dean’s eyes before reaching down between them and spreading the lube over his dick. When he finishes, Dean kisses Cas one last time before kneeling back on his knees and taking Cas’ cock in his hand. Eyes locked with Cas, he lowers himself slowly onto it, thighs trembling around Cas. “You’re so hot,” Cas mutters when Dean is fully seated. Dean rolls his hips forward a bit, experimenting. He’s bottomed before, but he’s never bottomed from the top. He decides rather quickly that he enjoys it a whole hell of a lot. Dean rides back and forth on Cas’ cock, speeding rapidly as his head flops back against the slide of flesh on flesh.

     “Fuck yeah, right there, Cas,” he mutters, bringing his ass down hard against Cas’ cock. Cas’ hand are gripped tight against Dean’s thighs, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips parted and quivering. “You like me riding your dick?” Dean asks, leaning down and nipping against Cas’ shoulder.

     “Uh-huh,” Cas grunts hands clenching tighter around Dean’s legs. 

     “Say it. Say you like me riding your cock.”

     “I fucking love you riding my cock,” Cas blurts, half crazed.

     “Yeah you do,” Dean mutters, tilting his hips so that every drive down rubs against his prostate. “Fuck yeah you do,” Dean says, throwing his head back again. His cock is achingly hard, rutting back and forth against Cas’ stomach. He’s torn which he wants to do more, ride Cas’ cock until he comes untouched or jerk his meat and blow his load all over Cas’ chest in mere minutes. He starts jerking. Dean knows the closer he gets, the louder he gets, but they’re alone, and Cas likes em loud. “Fuck yes,” he groans, his hips slamming down into Cas’ again and again. “I fucking love you, Cas.”

     “I love you too,” Cas promises, and Dean can feel that he’s close. Dean picks up his speed and leans in for the kill.

* * *

     For the past week, Anna has been attacked from every angle with tiny and _constantly_ sticky hands. They rub down her face, pull on her hair, pat against her calf. It doesn’t matter that they have each other, or that Anna doesn’t want them, each and every one of her little cousins want her. They want her undivided attention, playing games with them or listening to them read or walking to the bathroom with them. Whatever the task may be, they need her there beside them, and the way they ask for that is with their tiny, _constantly_ sticky hands rubbing her face, pulling her hair, patting her leg. Anna thinks that she has paid her dues as big cousin and deserves an easy flight home the next morning. 

     The sun is just about to set, and the children are elsewhere and self-content for the moment. Just as Anna is about to breathe a sigh of relief, the door to her borrowed and shared room flies open. She stops the groan slipping between her lips when she sees that it isn’t sticky little hands coming for her but instead, her mother’s satiny and demanding hands. They are pulling the suitcase out from beneath the bed, throwing their things in angrily. 

     “Mom?” Anna asks, sitting up on her elbows to watch. 

     “Pack your things, Anna. We’re leaving right this instant,” her mother hisses angrily, still packing the suitcase.

     “Our flight isn't until the morning.”

     “I don’t care. We’ll drive.”

     “Mom-”

     “Don’t argue with me, Anna. Just pack your things and get in the car!”

     “…yes mam.” So they pack their things and head out as the sun sinks below the horizon. “Why did we have to leave like that?” Anna asks once their relative’s house fades away. 

     “Because Raphael wants to be called Raphaela, and my sister is fine with that,” Anna’s mother hisses, hands visibly tightening on the steering wheel. 

     “So he wants to change his name?” Anna asks, confusion riding into her voice. Her mother shouldn't be so mad about Raphael wanting to change his name.

     “No,” her mother spits, pressing her foot down harder into the floorboard. “He wants to change his sex.” Oh. _Oh._ He wants to become a she. Anna’s mouth flutters open, fumbling for a way to tell her mother that there’s nothing wrong with it, that if Raphael wants to be called Raphaela, its probably because he’s always felt like a she. She deserves to be called what she wants. Anna doesn’t say any of this though. She doesn’t know how. Her mother is not one to be told off, so she swallows down her complaints and tries to ignore her mother’s insults. “It’s unnatural, Anna.” _You’re an asshole._ “God made him a boy, and a boy is what He intended he stay.” _He put her in the wrong body._ “My sister should not condone this type of behavior." Anna becomes so angry that her ears ring her mothers words in and out. "If any child of mine...out of the house. That’s the problem...gays have taken over. They infiltrate our work...next?...abominations, each and....” _Go fuck yourself, Mom._

     Anna stews in silence for the rest of the drive. Anger towards her mother is singing through her veins, ripping apart any warmth and camaraderie they may have built over the past week together. The rest of the ride is covered in stilted, icy silence, but to the jolt of fear Anna feels in her chest when they arrive to Dean’s Impala in the drive, she’d almost prefer the ice. 

     Anna knows that maybe they are sitting nicely, perhaps watching a movie or playing video games. (God knows they spent enough years acting platonically that it is familiar to them.) Then again she also knows her brother and his horndog of a boyfriend, and whatever chance there is that they _aren’t_ acting coupley, there is an even greater one that they are cuddling on the couch or fucking each other over the kitchen table. 

     Anna leaps from the car, barely hearing her mother grumble about “that Winchester boy” taking her parking space. Anna is rushing to the door, and it is locked. She is sighing and waiting for her mother’s keys, but by then, she cannot run to Cas in warning without arousing suspicion. All she can do is pray that they are sitting innocently on the couch in plain view, but from the instant Anna gets the door open, breathy moans fill the air. 

     “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, but her mother is too tuned in to the moans to scold her profanity. 

     “Is he…fornicating with a woman?” She hisses, slamming the door behind her and stepping towards Cas’ room. Clothes line the way, but crumpled on the ground in their hurried liberation, whether they are a male’s clothes or a female’s clothes cannot be discerned. Anna knows. She knows the leather jacket, and the worn boots. She knows the faded plaid and the large socks. 

     “I don’t think so, ma,” Anna mutters, running beside her before stepping in front of her. “Don’t go in there,” Anna says, stretching her arms across Cas’ closed door. Oblivious moans fill the air, and if her mother were listening for more than sex, she would hear no female breaths, double male grunts. 

     “Anna, he is _blatantly_ disobeying my rules! He is supposed to be following his code of chastity and instead, he is in there having sex with,” she pushes past Anna and flings the door open, stunning the pair behind it. Dean whips around, legs splayed wide over Cas’ hips, still perched like a king atop his boyfriend. “Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And Ms. Milton asked the boys to get dressed, told Cas she loved him, and went to make the happy couple a pie. The End." If only, right...
> 
> Okay, so firstly, in re to their bareback romp, this is a very dumb thing, children. While I don’t want you to stress about Dean or Cas suffering the consequences—because they won’t in this fic—I do want to emphasize the fact that more times than not, there are consequences to having unprotected sex. Please be careful if you choose to partake in sexual activities. Take precautions, even if you think the other person—yourself too—is clean. I just cannot stress all the ways this could have gone wrong for the boys… Just do yourselves a favor and wrap it up when you aren’t 100% sure.
> 
> Also, um...a lot of you saw this coming...it was bound to happen eventually. I know that doesn't get me out of the doghouse with you all, but I'm still sorry. There is a lot of angst up ahead, and for that I also apologize. Have faith that I will fix it, because I swear I will.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic depictions of violence and raging homophobia, beware.

     Dean rolls away immediately, swallowing the whimper and fumbling into his jeans. Cas just lies there staring slack-jawed and horrified into his mother’s wide eyes. The moment lasts an eternity. 

     “Ms. Milton,” Dean finally whispers, anything to stop the hellish silence. 

     “Not a word from you, Dean Winchester,” she spits, tearing her eyes away from Cas to glare daggers at Dean. “From the very _beginning_ ," she pauses, nostrils flaring in anger. "You have been _nothing_ but a bad influence on my son! Now you’ve got him in here...naked... _filthy..._ rolling around like animals!”

     “Mom,” Cas shouts, finally standing up, pulling the sheet with him to cover himself. 

     “I’ll deal with _you_ later,” she snaps at Cas, her eyes locked firm on Dean as she prepares to start back in on him. “You are nothing but an ignorant animal! Acting as though you don't know better than to pervert my son like this! You're absolutely useless! You are an abomination!" Dean, whittling down under her scrutiny, is not angry; he can’t even find it in himself to disagree with her. Instead, he hears them all, all the hundreds of insults thrown at him, people like him, over the years. _Winchesters don’t tolerate queer._ He is six, staring up at his father's alcohol glazed eyes. _Gays are what’s wrong with the world._ He is an elderly man walking down the street with his husband. _Queers deserve to die._ He is a lesbian girl, staring into the hatedfilled eyes of her mother. _Faggots are fucking disgusting._ He is back to staring at Cas' mom, heat in his veins and in his bones. He swallows heavily, eyes falling to his bare feet in shame. 

     “Stop it,” Cas hisses, stepping between Dean and his mother. They stare at each other for a long moment, each testing the other’s will. “Dean,” Cas says finally, eyes still on his mother. “You should go. I’ll call you later.”

     “Cas,” Dean starts, but Cas cuts him a look that quickly kills the rest of his argument. “Okay,” he murmurs, staring longingly at Cas like he wants to kiss him goodbye, like he wants to take away every pain he’s ever felt, but he leaves without another word, picking up the rest of his clothes as he walks away.

     “You don’t get to talk to him like that,” Cas says when he hears the front door shut. His voice is firm, resolute.

     “He’s nothing! He lets other men use him for sex! And _you?_ You had your _penis_ inside of him? That’s abhorrent, Castiel! You _know better_ than that! He'll send you straight to Hell!” His mother’s face is the color of a tomato. Anna is standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes, and Cas is back to yelling in his mother’s face.

     “I love him!” 

     “ _Love?_ This isn’t love! It’s _sodomy_!”

     “How would you know? You’ve never loved anything in your life!” 

     “I love my children! I loved your father!”

     “Look how that turned out," Cas sneers with a snort. "He’s gone, and your son's fucking another man.” His mother’s face is so contorted with anger that he shouldn’t be so surprised when her hand slams out across his cheek, snapping his head to the side hard enough for him to taste blood. “Hit me all you want,” Cas mutters after the shock and the pain subside enough for him to speak. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love him. I’ll still let him fuck me.” She is stunned silent. She has no words, nothing but wide eyes telling him that he did something right. 

     “I’ll deal with this myself,” she says eventually, turning on her heel and stomping off towards the front door. Cas watches her for a long moment, half of him jutting his chin up and refusing to give her the reaction she clearly wants. 

     As for the rest of him, a panic begins to grow, every horrendous possibility flashing through his mind in an endless cacophony. He sees wild possibilities, improbable possibilities, entirely likely possibilities, everything from her running Dean down with a baseball bat to castrating him. The dark possibilities creep up and up and up with every step away from him she takes. He locks eyes with Anna who has been pushed aside by their bulldozer of a mother, tears in her eyes and hands shaking. They are both terrified and stunned silent.

     “Wait,” Cas calls, unable to stand not knowing for another second, the anticipation drowning him. “Where are you going?” Cas runs after his mother, following her with half jogs and skips and fumbles. She is staring straight ahead, head held high and gaze teary. They are almost to the front door. 

     “You will not see him again, Castiel,” she says, refusing to look at him as she closes the final few steps to the door. “And if you won’t listen to me, perhaps Dean’s father _will._ ” Cas’ blood turns to ice. His whole world is moving in slow motion as she reaches for the door handle, but Cas’ mind is flying in high speed. He sees her walking over, standing in the threshold of that little house he’s spent half his childhood in. He sees her telling John. He sees her wide hand motions, and he sees the anger erupt on John’s drunken face. He sees the door between the parents slam, his mother’s face satisfied as she turns to walk back to her own home, now clean of any discrepancies. Cas hears screaming, crashing, a gunshot. 

     He sees Dean's headstone standing cold next to his mother's. 

     “No,” Cas gasps, tears in his eyes as he throws himself between his mother and the door. “Please, no.” He is crying, shaking as though his premonition had already happened. “ _Please._ I’ll do anything, whatever you want, just don’t tell John. Please.” Her eyes narrow at him, obviously unsure of why he’s crying. She doesn’t know John like Cas does. She doesn’t know that, should John find out, Dean would be getting off easy to walk away with all his extremities attached, black eyes, a broken nose, and bruises all over. He would be getting off easy to walk away alive.

     “I thought you might change your mind,” his mother says, smug and sadistic smile on her lips. “I’m sending you to a sexual orientation change effort clinic.” Cas flinches, but at least Dean is alive. “If you refuse to go, John Winchester will be notified of what his son has done.” Dean is alive. “If you try to leave before your treatment is complete, John will be notified.” Dean is alive. 

     “If I go, you have to _promise_ me that you won’t tell John,” Cas says, his voice still shaky from the tears. His mother grins at him. 

     “I promise,” she says, and Cas has no choice but to believe her.

* * *

     Dean climbs in through his window. He doesn’t think he can face his drunk biological father, his concerned surrogate father, his bouncing little brother, so he just...doesn’t. He climbs in through his window and pulls his headphones straight on in an attempt to let Led Zeppelin destroy the night he just had. It doesn't work. Instead, above the music, he hears Cas telling Dean all the horrors his mother might inflict on him if she found out. He wills Cas to be okay. 

     Dean falls asleep staring at the wall, and he awakes to Sam shaking his leg with moonlight wrapping around him. Sam’s eyes are wide, his lips spilling words rapidly, but Dean cannot hear. He pulls his headphones away, and Sam starts again.

     “Cas’ mom is here. She told Dad.” Dean stands immediately, fear heating his veins as he steps into the living room just in time to see Ms. Milton nod her head at John before leaving. John turns to face Dean slowly, and that makes it all the worse. If he would explode, it would be over quickly. This sluggishness means endurance, which means any _number_ of people could be hurt. 

     “Dad,” Dean starts, stepping away slowly with his hands up. John cocks his head to the side, eyes clear and focused. He is very obviously sober. He is very obviously angry. He steps closer and closer, his fists clenching and unclenching rapidly. 

     Then he swings, catching Dean square across the jaw before Dean can recoil, sending him stumbling backwards until he hits the wall behind him. The hit didn't hurt too badly; the recoil was in fear of what's to come. John steps closer, teeth bared and fist raised. He swings again, this time splitting Dean’s lip and roughly forcing his head against the hard wood. 

     “Stop!” Sam screams as he runs into the view of the beating, but John ignores him, bringing his fist up again and hitting Dean in the stomach, doubling him over with a groan. “Stop, damn it!” Sam screams with every punch, all to no avail. 

     “Sam,” Dean groans finally, seeing Sam’s trajectory. “Don’t,” but he does. He jumps between Dean and the next punch, catching it right across his scrawny little ribs. Dean swears he hears something crack. "Sam," he whines, unable to help as Sam crumples to his knees there at their feet.

     “You stay out of this, goddammit!” John screams down to his fallen son. Sam wheezes there on his knees, helpless to do anything but watch as his big brother takes another hit, watch the moment when Dean is defeated by the only villain that's ever been bigger than his heroics. “I did not raise my son to be a cock-sucking faggot!” John screams over the sound of a door opening in the back. Footsteps fill the air as John brings his fist around to meet Dean again, but this time Dean ducks, and John’s fist slams into the wall, cracking the plaster and a few fingers.

     “What in _God's name_ is going on in here?” Bobby shouts above the sound of the one-way fight, coming into view from the back of the house. John, keeping his injured hand tucked to his chest, picks up his other fist and swings at Dean, catching him across the eye because he was distracted by Bobby. Sam is still kneeling dazed on the floor, and Dean sputters blood every time John will give him a moment to. John swings again, but this time, it’s Bobby who jumps in, throwing John off balance and stopping the blow from meeting anything but air. John struggles against Bobby for a moment, but he is too busy screaming profanities at Dean to be _more_ than struggling.

     “You’re a good for nothing piece of shit! I give you a home and clothes and food, and this, _this_ is how you repay me? By letting some guy fuck you? By being a goddamn _faggot?!_ ” John swings again, but Bobby’s hold keeps him from getting close. 

     “What the _fuck_ is going on here?” Bobby demands of John, jerking him a bit further away for emphasis. 

     “He’s a fucking _cock sucker_!” John screams, and Dean recoils in on himself. 

     “ _What_?” Bobby asks, snapping his head around to Dean. Dean sees the anger flare in Bobby’s eyes, and he prepares for another beating, curling in on himself out of reflex. Years of abuse has taught him that often, being smaller being the only way out. Small is less threatening. Small is less punchable. He closes his eyes against Bobby’s flying fist because if anyone could love him despite of his sexuality, he hoped that Bobby would. He doesn’t want to see the façade he put on his and Bobby’s relationship shatter, so he closes his eyes. The hit never comes. Instead, the volume gets louder, and Dean opens his eyes to see Bobby jerking John harder. “So you _beat_ him? This is your son!”

     “That’s _damn right_ , and no son of mine is gonna be queer!”

     “What the hell's it to you? If he likes boys shouldn’t mean nothing to you!” Bobby jerks John a final time, this time tossing him away from his sons. Bobby glares at him for a long moment before kneeling down to pick Sam up. 

     “I’m glad your mom isn’t here go see this,” John spits, leering at his sons like the sack of shit he is. “She would be damn disappointed in you.”

     “Alright that's enough.” Bobby stands and crosses the room to stand nose to nose with John. “You’re a sorry son of a bitch, John Winchester, you know that?”

     “Get the _fuck_ out of my house,” John spits, and no one can tell whether he’s talking to Dean or Bobby. They both stare at him in stunned silence. “You heard me. Pack your shit and get out. You’re not staying in my house if you’re queer,” John snarls, eyes snapping to Dean. “And you’re not staying in my house if you sympathize with _them,_ ” he finishes, staring at Bobby. 

     “Go pack a bag, Dean,” Bobby says quietly, and Dean turns to stare at him incredulously. Eventually, after a few moments of staring at Bobby ignoring him and instead staring at John, he hangs his head and goes to his room to pack. He makes quick work of it, all the while pretending he doesn’t hear Bobby and John screaming at each other before going back into the living room, bag slung across his shoulders with his entire life condensed inside. His mom's picture is right on top, but it hurts to look at now because she would be disappointed in him. Everyone is.

     “Just where the fuck do you think you’re going?” John growls, his eyes turned toward Dean, and Dean is about to scream that John told him to pack his shit and get the fuck out, so he’s packed his shit and now he’s getting the fuck out. “You’re not fucking leaving,” John snarls, snatching Sam’s arm from beside Dean. Dean hadn’t even noticed his little brother standing beside him, his own bag strapped to his back. Sam jerks away from John immediately. 

     “I’m going with Dean,” Sam says, stepping closer to Dean. John laughs humorlessly.

     “You’re going to go with your _queer brother_ ,” he leers, leaning closer to his boys. Dean brings a protective arm up around his brother. “You’re not.” He turns to Dean. “And there’s nothing _you_ can do about it.” 

     “You can’t stop me,” Sam says, standing taller than Dean thinks he’s ever seen him. Dean wonders in passing how much longer it will be until Sam surpasses him completely. 

     “If you walk out on me, you walk out on this family,” John snaps, leaning closer towards Sam. 

     “ _Dean_ is my family. _Bobby_ is my family. They’ve always been there. How many of my t-ball games did you go to? How many of my awards programs did you attend? How many nights did stay up helping me with my homework or fighting away the nightmares? Do you even know what grade I’m in?” Dean turns to his dad curiously. Both of his sons are watching him with wide eyes. Sam hopes he knows. He hopes John will surprise them all and confidently say eighth. He hopes that someday he’ll be able to forgive his father for all the hell he’s put them through, but if that is ever going to be possible, John needs to know. 

     “Sixth?” John guesses after a long moment, and Sam’s face turns sour before he can even get the end of the word out. 

     “Fuck you, Dad,” Sam spits, recoiling into Dean’s side. 

     “You watch your mouth, boy,” John snarls, but Sam is already turning away, already heading for the door. Dean stares at his dad for a long moment, hoping that his family isn’t about to be ripped apart at its seams, hoping that he can blink and wake up from this nightmare. “The fuck are you staring at, faggot,” John spits at Dean, and Dean drops his eyes. He heads for the door, scooping his keys off the counter. “You’re not taking my car,” John calls, just because he can, just to rub salt in the wounds, and Dean stops with his back to his father, jaw clenched in anger. 

     “You’re taking everything from me,” Dean says, his back still to his dad, his head held high. “You’re taking my home, my life, my school, my boyfriend. You can’t even let me keep the fucking car?” 

     “You’re gay,” John says by way of explanation, so Dean laughs humorlessly. He turns around and throws the keys to the ground by John’s feet. 

     “You know what, you _should_ keep the car. It’s got some pretty nasty stains in the backseat anyway. Who knew gay sex could be so messy?” Dean grins at his father, swallowing down John’s disgust and hate-filled glare. 

     “Come on, boys,” Bobby says gently, stepping forward and putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean had forgotten Bobby was even there. He looks around and sees Sam waiting for him by the front door, ready to face the world with him. His heart swells, and he wants nothing more than to hug him against his chest and tell him that it’s going to be alright. He wants to promise Sammy that even though they may not have a house anymore, they’ll be alright. Dean will make sure Sam is alright, just like he always has. John’s malicious and slightly shaky voice draws him back to reality. 

     “I’ll call the police. Tell them you’re kidnapping my boys.”

     “Please,” Bobby snorts. “Let’s call the police. Tell them how Dean got his lip busted, how Sam got his rib broken. Tell them how many drinks you have a week. Tell them how you’ve been rubbing in to them since they could talk that, unless they were little copies of you, they wouldn’t be good enough. Tell them about the scars you’ve put on them, physically, emotionally, and then try and tell them that getting these boys away from you is anything but in their best interests.”

     John’s mouth hangs open, clearly searching for a response, but by the time he has thought of something, Bobby is already gently steering the boys away. Dean doesn’t look back, and with that slamming door, the reality of it all falls on top of him. 

     “Holy shit,” Dean breathes, panic rising in his chest. “He just kicked us out of the house. Where are we gonna stay? What are we gonna do? I’m gonna have to quit school and get a job an-” 

     “Whoa, boy,” Bobby interrupts, putting a hand on Dean’s rapidly heaving shoulder. “What do you mean, what are you going to do? You boys are gonna stay with me. I just didn’t want your daddy knowing where you were in case he decides he wants to bring you back with force.”

     “Bobby,” Dean starts, shaking his head slightly.

     “I don’t even want to hear it. You boys are like my own. I’m not going to leave you stuck here with him, and I’m definitely not gonna leave you out on the streets. I been plannin' on taking you boys for a while—with your consent, of course. Even got some lawyers involved. That’s the real reason I came for Christmas, to try and talk some sense into your daddy, to try and make him see that unless he started treatin' you boys right, he was gonna lose ya.” A long moment passes during which Sam and Dean stare at Bobby in wonder. 

     Then Bobby decides he’s had enough and guides the boys into his old, beaten-down, and rusty truck. They all cram in on the front bench, and it feels good. Dean revels in the feeling the whole drive to Bobby’s, trying to forget that his relationship with Cas is hanging precariously in the balance, that he was just kicked out of his home, that he's got basically nothing. For now, all he can process is that his baby brother is pressed safe against his side, and the miles are passing easily beneath their wheels. They are almost to Bobby’s house when they turn suddenly off the highway into Ellen’s, Bobby muttering about needing enough food to feed a litter. The little diner Bobby parks in front of has seen many nights of Sam and Dean avoiding drunk John, many mornings of Dean and Cas sneaking off, many afternoons of Sam and Jess studying and laughing. Bobby gets out, leaving them alone for the first time in days and staring at the front of that diner. They don’t know what to do with the silence, so for minutes that seem to stretch into hours, it suffocates them. 

     “He wants us…No one has ever wanted us,” Sam whispers finally, and had Dean known that was what was turning through that big, dorky brain of his, he’d have been screaming every obscenity to make him stop, singing every lullaby to calm the doubt. But he didn’t, and now the thoughts are there and Dean knows from experience that they will not be leaving, so Dean does all he knows to do and wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulder. 

     “It’s always been you and me against the world, huh,” he says softly, hugging Sam to his side. 

     “Uncle Bobby’s gonna take care of us, right?” Sam murmurs, turning up to Dean with big and terrified eyes. 

     “Of course he is, and if he doesn’t, then _I’ll_ take care of us. Always have.” Sam smiles a small smile and ducks his head. “We’re gonna be fine,” Dean promises, ruffling Sam’s hair teasingly. Sam smiles, broader this time, but as soon as he sees Dean’s eyes flick away, the smile slips away. 

     “Hey, Dean,” Sam says after a long moment of silence, a crease growing between his eyebrows. Dean has been watching Bobby move about in the small diner, talking with the warm-eyed Ellen with a smile on his face. 

     “Yeah, Sammy?”

     “You know that’s not right. What he said?”

     “What who said?”

     “Dad, when he said Mom would be disappointed…She wouldn’t be. She would be proud of you. She would be glad you found someone who makes you happy.” Sam offers Dean a smile, one that Dean tries to return around the tears that _definitely_ aren’t welling up in his eyes. 

     “Merry Christmas, Sammy,” Dean murmurs.

* * *

     The next morning finds Dean in a tiny bed, scratchy flannel sheets keeping him impossibly warm. He wakes up slowly, even unconsciously knowing that sleep is better than reality. Then the smell of bacon convinces him that, shitty as reality is, there are still some things to wake up for. Sam. Cas. Bobby. Bacon. Dean makes his way barefooted into the kitchen to find Bobby at the stove and Sam sitting at the table, phone receiver cradled in his hand. 

     “Yeah, Jess,” he whispers, his voice low and cheeks heated. “I miss you too...Yeah... I’ll definitely see you soon, okay? Things are just crazy...No, we're fine. Uncle Bobby's letting us stay here for a while...Yeah, Jess...I love you, too…bye.” Dean’s heart clenches in his chest. He misses Cas. Sam sets the phone aside but keeps his eyes low. He looks so beaten down by the world that he cannot stand it. 

     “Hey, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, sitting in the seat next to him. “Wanna see what Cas got me for Christmas?” 

     “Please tell me its not a silicone mold of his penis,” Sam says with a groan, and if Dean’s face weren't busy instantly heating, his eyes busy flicking nervously to Bobby’s back, he'd be glad that Sam is feeling happy enough to be a bitch.

     “No, you little pervert,” he mutters, but his pride is shot. “Come on,” Dean says and stands, leading Sam to the tiny room he has been put in for the rest of the near, unforeseeable future. When he gets there, he sits Sam on the bed and turns to his bag. Of all the hurried things he packed, the frame is the only thing he set in gingerly. He pulls it out, stares at his mom for a selfish moment before passing her to Sam. Tears immediately form in Sam’s eyes, and Dean fears that instead of helping, he just hurt Sam more. Then his shaking fingers become greedy fingers, running over the glass covering her, taking in her every curl, her every bend. 

     “She’s so beautiful,” Sam murmurs finallly, and Dean nods. 

     “I was totally right in saying his gift would be better than mine,” Dean says with a tired smile. Sam never looks up from the picture clutched in his hands, so eventually, Dean decides to leave the two of them alone and make his way back to the smell of bacon. 

     “Hungry?” Bobby asks when he enters the kitchen, and Dean nods as he sits at the table and pulls a plate to himself. “Dig in,” Bobby says, sitting next to Dean in silence as he loads his plate. Bobby waits until Dean has a mouthful of food--unable to defend himself, the sorry bastard--to begin speaking. “Listen,” he starts, and Dean chews all the faster in order to talk, not listen, because 'listen' means they’ll have to talk about what happened last night, about Dean liking guys, about life, and it’s not a conversation Dean wants to have, like _ever_. Unfortunately for him, Bobby beats him to the punch. “I just want you to know that…Your dad never...It doesn’t matter….I still…even though you’re…”

     “Bobby,” Dean forces down his food half-chewed and starts, cutting him off with his face hot beyond compare and lips sticky with syrup. “You don’t have to…please.”

     “No, Dean,” Bobby persists, shaking his head. “It needs to be said.”

     “No, it doesn’t,” Dean argues, his head falling lower and lower into his chest. Small is less threatening. Small is less punchable, and that includes with words. 

     “Well, you need to _hear it_ ,” Bobby says firmly, so Dean has no choice but to look up to those miserly eyes and swallow down his embarrassment. “Now listen here. I firmly believe that a great deal of what your father did, he did with what _he_ believed was your best interest at heart. He may not be the smartest or most empathetic man, but he does _care_ about you boys. With that being said, what he said was way out of line, so far out of line that he can't even see the line anymore. He shouldn’t care that you like guys too. All he should care about is that you’re happy. That’s all _I_ care about. I know you aren’t big on the touchy feely, and neither am I, believe me." Bobby takes a breath to slow his ramblings. "But I love you, son,” he finishes after a moment, and Dean's whole face heats again. 

     “Love you too,” Dean murmurs after a moment of stunned silence, a smile tugging on his lips.

     “And I’m not at all surprised that you and Cas wound up together,” Bobby adds as an afterthought, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. 

     “What? Seriously?”

     “Oh, yeah. Anyone with eyes could see that you two care about each other.”

     “He was my best friend,” Dean says with an incredulous shrug. 

     “Yeah, but it was more.” Dean rolls his eyes, but a smile ghosts across his lips. “I’m glad it was him,” Bobby says sincerely, drawing an even more prominent smile out of Dean. 

     “Me too,” Dean murmurs, starting back in on his bacon. Bobby leaves him to his breakfast after that, and when he finishes, he picks up the phone and wanders into the garage. He just needs to hear Cas’ voice, so he dials the number. He doesn’t answer, so he dials Cas’ house phone. He doesn’t answer, but Anna does. 

     “Hello,” she asks when the line opens between them. 

     “Hey, Anna. Can I talk to Cas?” Dean runs a worried through his hair, and the silence between them hangs for a long moment. 

     “He’s not here,” she says finally, sadness creeping into her voice. 

     “What? Where is he?” 

     “...she took him to a SOCE clinic,” she murmurs finally, and Dean has to pull the phone away from his face to make sure he heard her correctly. 

     “ _What_?” he asks, incredulously. “She took him to a SOCE clinic? As in, _sexual orientation change effort_ clinic?” 

     “Yeah,” she murmurs, and Dean scoffs. Then the tears well in his eyes. 

     “Fuck no,” he spits into the phone.

     “I’m so sorry, Dean. I tried so hard… She said something to him; I don’t know what. He said he wanted to go.” Dean swallows, all the air stripped from his lungs. 

     “ _What_?” Dean asks quietly, but it isn’t angry. It’s lost. 

     “He wouldn’t budge. He got that stubborn little set in his jaw and wouldn’t cave.” Dean can see it now. They are fighting over pizza toppings. They are fighting over a movie to watch. They are fighting over a million little things, but they are not fighting over Cas leaving, never about Cas leaving because Cas would not leave. “He said to tell you he meant it. Said you’d know what he meant.” 

     “Sorry, bastard couldn’t just say he loves me?” Dean asks with a laugh that is trying hard to stay steady and tear free. 

     “I don’t know. It seems more romantic this way,” Anna replies with a sad smile in her voice. 

     “Thanks, Anna,” Dean replies softly. 

     “Hey, Dean,” she calls before Dean can hang up.

     “Yeah?”

     “Don’t give up on him, okay?” Her voice is soft and sincere. 

     “I couldn’t if I tried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close Scene for Part One. 
> 
> So...what did you guys think? Did you expect it? (I know some of you did) Were you shocked? (I hope some of you were) 
> 
> (Just as a footnote, I don't know if this really needs to be said, but the opinions expressed in this fic, part two and three as well, are not, in any way, size, shape, or form, my opinions. I am not a homophobic asshole. I just wanted to make that clear so no one gets offended personally or thinks something John or Ms. Milton says is a sentiment I that I share because I don't.)
> 
> On to brighter subjects! I want to thank you all so much for reading and living the first part of this journey with me. You guys give me life with your sweet and expressive comments, [wonderful fanarts](http://wingofcastiel.tumblr.com/post/126439035787/fanart-i-did-for-the-wonderful-fic-what-the), and endless support. I honestly cannot thank you enough. I love you all and can't wait to hear your thoughts on part two! 
> 
> (Hey you guys wanna see something kind of funny/ridiculous that I doodled during one of my planning stages? If so, [here](http://sippingonsouthernrains.tumblr.com/post/127747181521/a-little-bit-of-humor-to-get-you-all-through-until) you go!)


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